There Will Still Be You and Me
by Garideth
Summary: Fourth installment of my "Not Strong Enough" series. Takes place during the eighth season. Gari died, Dean went to Purgatory, and Sam, well...Sam hit a dog. Yeah, right. If only things were really that simple. INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. And It Seems I've Been Buried Alive

I woke up screaming.

I couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't think; all I felt was a searing pain in my back and walls pressing in on all sides.

I screamed and screamed until I was hoarse, and then I kept screaming until no more sound came out and I was left taking sharp, ragged breaths as my heart rate finally started slowing down. _Where am I?! What's happening?! Why am I hurting?! Did I go blind?! Have I been kidnapped?! Where's Ella?! Is she okay?!_

At the thought of Ella, I was able to think clearly. If she was in the same situation, I had to get her out. She came first.

 _Alright, first things first: where the fuck am I?!_ I could just barely move my arms from their position by my sides and bring them up to rest on my chest. I pressed my hands against a satiny, cushioned surface above me, and then I realized that that same material was all around me. _Oh, God,_ I thought as a terrifying suspicion started growing in my mind, _am I in a coffin?! Have I been buried alive?! Oh,_ God _, where's Ella?!_

My heart started pounding again as panic took hold of me, and I beat my hands against the top of the coffin. "LET ME OUT!" I yelled. "I'M STILL ALIVE! LET ME OUT!" I realized then that if no one had let me out when I was screaming, there was a very small chance of it happening now.

 _Okay, okay, calm down. I'm not gonna get outta this by freaking out. And I've_ got _to get outta this. I've gotta find Ella._ I took a few deep breaths and found that the air supply in my coffin was severely lacking, and I knew my screaming had just made that worse. _Add that to the list of problems I'm dealing with._

 _Alright, Gari, focus. You got this. Busting out of a coffin should be no problem. Awesome magical powers, activate._ I put my hands against the roof of the coffin and closed my eyes. I had been getting better at controlling my powers before Greg died, but, ever since, I'd had a hard time focusing even the smallest amount of energy on anything. However, this was a matter of life or death, so I hoped that that would give me the push I needed to actually do something productive.

 _Remember what Greg said. Clear your mind. Picture what you want. Only think of what you want. Think about getting out. Think about finding Ella._ I used up more of my air supply by taking another deep breath to steady myself.

"Out," I said aloud. "Ella." I pushed up on the coffin and felt power tingling through my body. "Out. Ella." The power reached my fingers, and I strained against the weight of the coffin's lid and the dirt that I guessed was piled on top of it. "Out, Ella." I continued to repeat the words like a mantra as I focused every bit of power I had into my hands. "Out, Ella, out, Ella, out, Ella, out, Ella, out, ELLA!"

The coffin lid flew open with a noise that sounded like a small explosion, and sunlight streamed in and blinded me as dirt poured down around me. I clawed my way to the top of the six-foot drop and flopped onto the ground in front of a tombstone to catch my breath. I heaved in and out for at least ten minutes, happy to have fresh air and open space again. I sat up and looked around, noticing that I was, in fact, in a cemetery. The weather was hot and humid, which I found odd as I saw the leaves turning colors on the trees. _Somewhere in the South, then,_ I thought decisively. _But how did I get here? And where the hell is Ella?!_

I searched the ground near me for any freshly turned earth, figuring that she would've been buried alongside me by whoever got us, but all I saw was the evidence of my escape. _So she got away._ Relief washed over me at the thought, but it was soon replaced with confusion. _So why didn't she rescue me?! She wouldn't just_ leave—

My thoughts stopped abruptly as I finally looked at the gravestone in front of me. _That's not possible,_ I thought slowly. _That_ can't _be right!_

But the words were literally etched in stone: "Garideth Leigh Vulcan, April 13, 1983 – May 18, 2012. Loving sister and friend. She saved the world a lot." In front of the gravestone was a faded picture of me that I had no memory of taking, and I looked at least six or seven years older than I really was. Beside that was a fresh bouquet of roses and lilies.

 _But that doesn't make sense!_ I thought bewilderedly. _The date's off by almost ten years! And I'm_ not dead _!_

I started to get to my feet then, determined to go somewhere to figure out what was going on, but the pain in my back flared up and I dropped to my knees with a yelp. I reached under my shirt to try to find out what was hurting me so badly, and my fingers brushed over a large scar only slightly to the right of my spine, and I found the exit wound on my chest. _I'm not dead,_ I thought as I winced and pulled my hand away, _but I should be. Something like that should've killed me. What the_ hell _is going on?!_

I looked at the gravestone beside mine and let out a small gasp. _Camilla Harken?! Ella's sister?!_ I suddenly knew where I was. _What the fuck am I doing in Abbeville?! Ella swore she'd never come back here! I've gotta find a phone or something. I need to talk to her._

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I used my tombstone to pull myself to my feet. I patted my pockets in search of my cell phone, but all I found was a crinkled up picture of me, Ella, and two guys who looked vaguely familiar. Ella was kissing the shorter one on the cheek, and the taller one and I had our arms around each other. Neither of us was looking at the camera; instead, we were grinning stupidly at each other, as if we couldn't be happier than we were just being together. I suddenly felt a strange pang of longing in my heart for something and someone I'd never known.

With a huff, I shoved the picture back into my pocket and turned toward the gate leading out of the cemetery. It looked like I was right in the center of town, and I wondered if anyone had heard my explosion. Just to be safe, I figured it was best to get away as quickly as possible. As I started walking, I sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had chosen my funeral outfit. I could've ended up in a dress, but I was thankfully in a pair of black skinny jeans and my favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt. I even had on combat boots, though they looked a little different from the pair that I owned, and my amulets and the bells on my bracelet jingled as I walked.

 _Wait. Amulet_ s _?_ I grabbed the unfamiliar one and held it up to inspect it. A blue stone was in the center, surrounded by a silver disk covered in Latin spell work. I managed to pick out one word, which I recognized to be "search."

" _Quarere_ ," I read aloud, and the stone in the middle lit up. "Huh. Guess that's the magic word. I wonder what it helps me search for." I frowned when the stone continued to glow; then I shrugged and let it fall back beside my mother's necklace, figuring it would stop glowing eventually.

I made my way up a brick-laid street, looking for a place that might have a phone. A restaurant was to my left, and I figured that was my best shot. I pushed open the door and blinked as my eyes adjusted to the darkened lighting. Bells chimed together as the door moved, and a hostess walked up to me.

"Welcome to The Village Grill," she said with forced happiness. "Just one?"

"What?" I frowned, not understanding at first. "Oh, uh, no. I was actually wondering if you have a phone I could use."

"Yeah, sure. Go to the bar. Take a left right past the drinks."

I nodded and headed where she'd pointed. "Thanks," I threw over my shoulder.

"Lemme know if ya need anything else," she called, but I didn't reply.

"What'll it be, hun?" the bartender, a woman a little older than me, asked. She gave me a slow once-over and frowned. "Whoa, what happened to _you_?"

I looked down at myself and realized for the first time that I was covered in dirt from clawing my way out of my grave. I decided to ignore the question. It wasn't like I could give her an honest answer, anyway. "Um, the hostess said you have a phone I can use?" I said unsurely.

"Yeah...sure." She sat an old landline on top of the bar, then sat a glass right beside it and filled it up with whiskey. "On the house, hun. Ya look like ya could use it."

I nodded my thanks and put the phone to my ear. I dialed Ella's main number, but all I got was a message saying the number was no longer in use. _Okay, one of her numbers is bound to work. I've still got two more. Don't give up yet._

Five minutes later, I had called Ella's other two numbers and all three of mine, getting the same disheartening results every time. Then there was only one thing left for me to try.

Taking a deep breath, I started punching the numbers of a phone I hadn't called in almost a year. _If any are connected, it's this one._ I held my breath as I waited for Ella to answer or at least for the old, familiar voicemail to pick up, but I was once again met with an automated woman's voice telling me the phone was no longer activated. I exhaled slowly, anger and despair causing my eyes to well up with tears and my hands to shake. _We said we'd never disconnect it. We said we'd always keep it so we could hear his voice when we needed it. Why is it disconnected?!_

 _Okay, don't freak out. I can find her. I can find her anywhere._ I took another deep breath to steady myself and downed the glass of whiskey in one big gulp. _Okay. Okay. I got this. I can do this._ I pushed the phone away from me, not wanting to look at it anymore, and the bartender came up to me again.

She refilled my glass and said, "Y'okay, hun?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but just then, a waitress came around the corner. "Ella called out again," she complained to the bartender. "This is the second time this week! Seventh time this month!" I froze, wondering if my luck was starting to change.

"Well, what can ya expect," the bartender said sympathetically, "what with her takin' care of three kids and her boyfriend runnin' out on her last year?" _Wait,_ what _?! That can't be_ my _Ella!_

The waitress rolled her eyes, but she leaned over the bar and dropped her voice to avoid being overheard by too many people. Her eyes lit up with the chance to gossip, and she beckoned the bartender forward. "Yeah, but y'know his _brother_ _'s_ been livin' with her since then?!"

"You're kiddin'!"

"Nope! He fixed my AC unit a while back, and I saw him in town the other day. He was gettin' baby food and diapers at Bi-Lo. I heard he's been workin' at Porter's Mechanics for a few months."

"How'd ya know it was him?" the bartender asked skeptically.

"Believe me, if ya saw him, ya'd know," the waitress replied with a smirk. "That family is blessed with some genes, lemme tell ya. Six-foot-four of muscle with romance-novel hair and a smile that'll melt your heart!"

The bartender let out a low, impressed whistle. "Where can I find me a man like that?"

"That's what I wanna know!"

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know if they were talking about _my_ Ella.

"Excuse me," I said. The waitress gave me a surprised look, as if she hadn't realized I was there and couldn't believe I'd dared to interrupt her gossip.

The bartender, however, swatted her hand at the waitress and turned toward me. "What d'ya need, hun?"

"I was just wondering if you were talking about Ella Harken."

"Y'know Ella?"

"Yeah," I nodded eagerly. "I'm actually looking for her. She's an old friend of mine, and I wanted to surprise her with a visit, but I can't remember her address, and it looks like she's changed her phone number since we last talked."

"Ever tried a phone book?" the waitress said rudely, and the bartender shot her a warning look.

"Ella's not in the phone book, Jen," the bartender said smartly, and Jen at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Don't ya have some work to do since we're short a server tonight?"

Jen huffed. "Alright, _fine_ ," she grumbled as she walked away, and the bartender shook her head.

"Sorry 'bout her. I can tell ya where Ella lives, if ya want."

"That'd be great, thanks!" Relief washed over me. _I'm about to find her. I'm about to find Ella and figure out what's going on. Everything is gonna be okay._

"Alright," the bartender said, "all ya gotta do is take a right outta the Square by the 7-11 and drive on down 72. Take a left at the red light past the Westbrook Motel, and Ella's in a little robin's egg blue house about three driveways down. There'll be two old muscle cars parked in front: one blue and one black. Ya can't miss it."

"Thank you so much," I said, a genuine grin spreading over my face. "Um, I don't suppose Abbeville has a taxi service or anything?"

The bartender laughed. "Nearest taxi service is about two towns over. But I can take ya."

"No, you really don't have to do that." I said hurriedly, not about to make this woman I just met drive me around. "I don't mind walking."

She laughed again. "It's about ten miles from here to there." I frowned at that. I'd been hoping it was closer. "Look, I'm goin' on break in..." She glanced at her watch. "...about thirty seconds. I'll take ya out there. It's no trouble at all."

"Are you sure?" I asked, still feeling guilty.

"Yep. Just lemme go clock out."

I finished off my second glass of whiskey as the bartender went to clock out, and I stood as she came back. "Thank you _so_ much for this. Seriously."

"It's no problem, hun," she said with a smile. "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Gari."

"Nice to meet ya."

"Likewise."

Alice had a new white Camry that looked different from the new white Camry that I was used to seeing. For some reason, annoyance sparked in me at the sight of the car, like I had some grudge against Camries or something. I shrugged it off and got into the passenger seat.

I had to fit my feet around some fast food wrappers in the floor, and Alice laughed embarrassedly. "Sorry 'bout that. I got a thing for McDonald's apple pies. Plus, Mickey D's is usually the only place open when I get off work."

"It's fine, really."

"So where ya from?" Alice asked conversationally.

"Oh, um..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say. "All over, really. I move around a lot."

"Alright, well, where were ya born?"

I frowned. "Alabama," I said reluctantly. I wasn't used to being asked that.

"I thought I caught a little bit of Southern accent!" Alice said triumphantly. "Ya tried to get rid of it, huh? Why's that?"

I shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn't be too offended if I blew her off. "So how long have you known Ella?" I asked.

Alice gave me an apologetic look, thankfully realizing that I wasn't comfortable with her question. "Oh, just a few years," she said. "She started workin' at the Grill last year, but she's lived here for maybe three years. I heard she used to live here when she was little, and the whole town knows about what happened with her sister. Why she came back after all that, I dunno. I don't think I coulda done it."

"Yeah..." I said slowly. I didn't know why she came back, either, but I was determined to find out soon.

"Here we are!" Alice said suddenly, and I looked out the window to see the house she had described earlier. It definitely screamed Ella, what with the girly color, the white shutters, and the flower boxes on the window sills, and I saw Greg's Impala in the driveway, looking just as well-cared for as I remembered it. My heart started racing with anticipation and I found it suddenly hard to breathe, and I wondered if this was what I panic attack felt like."Y'okay?" Alice asked worriedly. Apparently, I looked as panicked as I felt.

"Y-yeah," I said weakly. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for bringing me out here."

"Anytime! If ya ever need another taxi, just lemme know!" Alice waved as she drove off, leaving me standing outside the house alone.

I looked up at the tiny house, which suddenly looked imposing and kind of scary as I thought of what awaited me on the other side of the front door. _Well, let's find out. As long as Ella is here, everything is gonna be okay._ I exhaled slowly and headed up the steps to the porch. I stood in front of the door, my hand raised to the doorbell, for what must have been nearly ten minutes.

 _Just press it,_ I urged myself. _It's just a doorbell, and Ella might be in there. Even if nothing is making sense right now, it'll be okay as soon as I see Ella. She'll make everything okay._

At that thought, I was able to muster up my courage, and the doorbell rang out through the small house. "Just a minute!" a man's voice called, and heavy steps made their way toward the door.

 _Okay, that is_ definitely _not Ella. Maybe it's her boyfriend's brother or whoever Jen and Alice were talking about? Should I run? Should I get outta here and come back later? I should probably—_

The door opened; it was too late for me to run away.

My first thought when I saw the man was than Jen the waitress gave a pretty accurate description, though instead of the "smile that'll melt your heart," he was wearing an expression of complete and utter disbelief. As a matter of fact, he looked like he was about to cry. My second thought was that he was one of the men in the picture in my pocket, the one that I'd been hugged up to, and that made me even more uncomfortable than I would've originally been if he'd been a complete and total stranger. The fact that I'd probably known this man once was enough to make me think of bolting again.

I stood there awkwardly as he stared at me, his mouth opening and closing as though he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words. "Y'know, if you keep your mouth open like that, you're gonna catch flies," I said sarcastically, finally fed up with this guy's behavior. "Seriously, dude, what the—"

I was rudely interrupted by his mouth on mine, and then something even stranger happened. Some sort of montage flashed through my head, featuring me, this man, and a whole lot of kissing. There were multiple scenarios, more than I could keep up with, and each flash struck me with a different feeling, ranging from happiness to desperation.

Naturally, I freaked out, and I shoved him away angrily, wiping my mouth as I yelped, "Whoa, what the _fuck_ , man?! I like spontaneity as much as the next girl, but I'd like to at least know your _name_ first!" I chose not to dwell on how good of a kisser he was— _I shouldn't be focusing on that; I should be pissed that he kissed me in the first place!_

He had been grinning despite being pushed away— _Jen_ _was right again_ —but, at my words, he frowned in confusion. "What?"

"What d'you mean, 'what?' _I'm_ the one who just got assaulted!" I gestured wildly at him as I spoke. "I ring the doorbell, and BAM! Lip attack! Y'know, I've punched guys for less," I shrugged, "but you're cute, and you taste like cookies, so I'll let you slide with a warning." I didn't intend to flirt, but he was _extremely_ attractive, and _he_ was the one who'd made the first move—I couldn't help myself.

" _What_?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I'm trying to find Ella Harken. She's an old friend of mine, and I was told she lived here. If she's not here, that's fine, just tell her I stopped by and that she needs a new guard dog. Seriously, what good are you if all you do is kiss unsuspecting guests? Some people would enjoy that too much. Not _me_ ," I said hurriedly, "but some people." I knew I was rambling, but, hey! I'd expected Ella to come to the door and hug me and maybe cry, and instead I got sexy Goliath waging war on my mouth. I was a little taken aback, to say the least.

" _What_?!"

"Seriously, man, get a new word," I huffed. "Just tell Ella that a friend came to see her and wants to know why said friend woke up in a coffin this morning. That kinda shit can really fuck a girl up. Later, Cookies," I said with a wave, and I turned to go.

"Gari—"

I spun back around and narrowed my eyes at the man. "How d'you know my name?"

He now looked more skeptical and exasperated than shocked, and I wondered why. "Can you just _stop_ for a minute?" he asked. "Seriously, cut the act and give me five minutes just to _look_ at you. I can't believe you're back." His eyes got that misty quality again, and they went all wide and soulful as his expression turned to one of awe. "We _buried_ you; I-I brought your body all the way back here; I lost Dean and Cas and Kevin and Meg, too; I was alone and I-I didn't know what to do so just—" He took a deep breath to steady his trembling voice. "Please," he said simply, reaching a hand out toward me.

I looked between his hand and his face, and my heart broke a little, but still I shook my head. "You've got the wrong girl," I said, his obvious pain and relief stopping any joking response I had planned. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you."

The skepticism was completely gone from his face, and the awe changed to fear. I could tell he believed me that time. "I-I don't understand," he said shakily. "How d'you not know me? After everything we—"

"I'm sorry," I said again, and I really meant it. I had the strangest urge to hug this guy, just to see if it would make him stop looking so devastated.

It was amazing how quickly he went from heartbroken to suspicious. "Then what the hell _are_ you?!" he growled, narrowing his eyes at me, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I was a little scared (and a little turned on, but that's irrelevant).

I masked my fear easily, rolling my eyes and saying, "Oh, yeah, wait 'til _after_ you suck my face to ask the important questions. If I really know you and I _really_ just came back from the dead, you'd think testing me would've been your number one priority." He didn't seem to know what to say to that, and the suspicious look faded a little, now competing with embarrassment. "Look, I'm human," I assured him, and, hey, it was almost true. "I'm not a demon or a shifter or anything else monster-y. Scout's honor." I held up my hand mockingly, and I smirked at him.

"Prove it," he ordered, the wary look coming back.

I reached down to grab my dagger out of my boot only to realize that it wasn't there. "Can you help me out here?" I asked. "Ella must have decided she didn't wanna bury me with a weapon. I can't imagine why."

"Hold out your arm." He pulled a knife out of his waistband and looked at me expectantly.

"I can do it myself, thanks."

"You think I'm trusting you with this?!" he asked incredulously.

"You trusted me with your tongue, so I don't see why not."

His face turned a deep red, and I almost laughed. He was blushing from head to toe, and it was _adorable_. He spluttered indignantly, trying to come up with an excuse, and I watched on with amusement as he floundered for words. Finally, he calmed down and huffed out, "Just gimme your arm!"

I decided to humor him and held my arm out for him. "Y'know, it's not totally necessary to do some deep, dramatic cut," I told him as he pressed the knife into my skin. "If it burns, you'll know right away. Even pricking my finger would tip you off."

"Yeah, okay, you've got a point," he conceded, and I nodded satisfactorily as the knife just barely pierced my skin. Nothing happened.

"So…not a shifter. What's next, splashing me with—"

I got a face full of holy water at that moment. _I dunno why I didn't see that coming._ "You're also not a demon," Sam noted.

"So did I pass your tests, then? Can I stop standing on the porch and come in—" This time, he interrupted me by pulling out a small water pistol and spraying me in the chest. "If I was wearing a white shirt," I said drily, "I would have punched you. What the hell was _that_ for?"

"You're not a Leviathan, either, then." He put the water gun away, and he started to look all broken-hearted again.

" _No_ , I am _not_ a giant sea monster…" I said slowly, raising my eyebrows at him. "I would've thought _that_ was kinda obvious…"

" _What_?" He looked totally confused, and then realization seemed to dawn on him. " _Oh_. No, that's not what they are. They, well… It's a long story."

"Okay… So, uh, I don't really hate to say I told you so, so I told you so." I smirked at him. "I'm _totally_ human."

Suddenly, he wiped his face clear of all emotion, which I both hated and was grateful for. That careful, emotionless mask that I'd been known to use multiple times looked completely out of place on him, but at the same time, I didn't know how much longer I could've held out with him looking at me like a kicked puppy or like I was a murder suspect.

"Okay," he said with a nod. "Alright. Then that means you really _don't_ remember me. But you're alive, and that's..." His mask faltered, letting joy and hurt seep through his eyes, but he quickly regained control. "I guess I should introduce myself then." He stuck out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Sam."

I took his hand, pretending not to notice how it trembled or that he held on a little tighter and longer than was strictly necessary. I was impressed at how quickly he'd adjusted to me not knowing him, especially if I'd been as important to him as I suspected. "Nice to meet you," I said formally. "And I'm Gari, but, uh, I guess you already knew that."

He nodded, and a smile started to tug on the side of his mouth, but it faded right after. "So, uh, what _do_ you remember?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, obviously you remember Ella, but is it just your memories of me that are gone or are the memories of Dean and Cas and Bobby and everyone else gone, too?" His voice took on a strange tone, and I soon recognized it to be curiosity. It seemed that he'd completely gotten over the disappointment of me not remembering him and had moved on to interest in what had happened to me.

"I don't know any of those people," I told him, shaking my head. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay!" Sam said hurriedly. "You don't have to apologize! Whatever happened to you wasn't your fault. I just wanna know what you know." He suddenly seemed to realize that we were still outside on the porch. "Oh, uh, sorry; d'you wanna come inside?" I nodded once, and he moved out of the way to let me in then closed the door behind us. He led me into a tiny kitchen and gestured to a row of bar stools. "Want anything? We have cookies."

"I noticed," I said with a smirk, and his cheeks turned pink. _Okay, yeah,_ totally _adorable._

"Heh, uh, sorry about that," he said embarrassedly, and he ducked his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I thought you—"

"I know, Sam," I assured him as I took a seat. "And I'm _pretty_ sure I wasn't complaining."

His blush deepened. "Um, so, what were we talking about?"

"You were asking me what I remembered."

"Right, so—"

"I woke up thinking it was 2003. Does that answer your question?"

His eyes widened. "Wait, so, you lost _ten years_?"

"Apparently. And in that time, it seems that Ella hooked up with your brother, moved back to her hometown, had three kids, got _left_ by your brother, and hooked up with you, which makes your behavior on the porch extremely confusing, and I'm kinda wondering if I should kick your ass for macking on me while you're with my sister."

"Wait, _what_?!" Sam sputtered. "I'm not—Ella and I—we—she's— _Dean_ —"

"Small town gossip," I broke in. _That's the third time he's mentioned this Dean guy. Could that be his brother? Wait, why does that sound so familiar?_ "Got it. Sorry. Jen the waitress has a mouth on her."

Sam sighed. "Jen. Of course."

"I'm guessing you've met her?"

"I fixed her air conditioner when I moved in with Elle last year."

"And she's been after your cookies ever since?" I teased.

He chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that."

A small silence passed between us, and I was surprised at how comfortable it felt. I decided to break it, however, as questions continued to plague my mind. I had to get answers somehow, and I figured Sam would be as good a person to ask as any, especially since Ella apparently wasn't home.

"Can you tell me what happened to me?" I asked finally, figuring that that question would pretty much cover all the bases.

Sam frowned and sat down on the other bar stool, but he didn't look at me, instead choosing to stare at the marble countertop, and I suddenly regretted my choice of question. "You were stabbed," he said quietly. "You were stabbed in the back, and you died in my arms."

I wished I was a comforting person. I wished I'd remembered knowing Sam. I wished I hadn't felt so awkward just sitting there while Sam relived what appeared to be the extremely painful memory of my death. All I wanted to do was reach out to him, tell him it was okay and that it wasn't his fault, and that it was worth it, but I didn't even know if any of that was true or if my saying that would change anything at all.

"We were taking down this monster boss who'd been giving us trouble the past year," Sam continued. "We split up: Dean and Cas went to kill Dick Roman, I was trying to find Kevin, and you and Meg stayed behind to fight off the other Leviathans." _There's those Leviathans again. I wonder what they really are. Right now, all I can picture is the kraken._

"I found Kevin, and we were planning on getting him out of there once we killed Dick. But, apparently, killing Dick creates a backlash that sends you to Purgatory 'cause that's where Dean and Cas have been for a year. Dean got out a few days ago, but I-I guess we lost Cas." Cas seemed important. I could tell by the way Sam said his name that they'd been friends, and that they'd been through a lot together.

"Crowley showed up after Dean and Cas killed Dick, and he got Meg and Kevin. He—he told me I was alone," Sam said, his voice breaking slightly, "but I didn't understand him at first. Then I did, and I ran back outside, and..." He swallowed roughly. "A-and I found you."

"Sam..." I hesitantly reached toward his hand, but he kept talking and didn't seem to notice.

"I brought you back here because I thought Ella should be able to see for herself, and I thought she should get to decide what to do with your body," he said after clearing his throat, and his voice got stronger. "She wanted to bury you with her family, and I let her."

"You _had_ to know how dangerous that was," I said rationally, and I made a note to speak to Ella about it later.

"I know," he said, meeting my eyes for the first time, and I was the one who looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes and not wanting to understand the implications of those two words. He knew there had been a possibility of me coming back as a spirit, but he'd let Ella give me a traditional burial, maybe on the hopes that I would've chosen to stick around despite the knowledge of what would eventually happen. _Okay, so I was in_ super _deep with this guy. Like, codependent-deep. That's...kinda scary._

I swallowed and pulled my hands back toward me, twisting them together and fidgeting as I still felt his eyes on me. "So, uh, y-you didn't—"

" _No_ ," he said adamantly. "We promised each other we'd never do it, and you'd already upheld your end. It was my turn." I decided not to ask what _that_ meant, afraid of what he would say. "So I'm guessing you don't know how you got back, then?"

I shook my head. "I wish I did. It'd be nice to have a lead to getting my memories back."

"Well, there's not many things powerful enough to take your memories in the first place," Sam said, and I knew he was trying to be reassuring, "so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out."

"Your optimism is very refreshing."

"Don't get used to it," he chuckled.

"So where are Ella and your brother?"

"Kiddy club," Sam replied. He seemed to find that extremely amusing, and his laugh made me laugh, too. It was warm and real, and I had the sad feeling that it was rare, especially lately. "They should be back in a few hours. They'd just left when you got here."

I nodded. I wanted to ask him about _us_ —I was sure he would've tried to act more normal around me if he'd known I'd lost my memories when he first saw me, but now the cat was out of the bag, and I wanted to know our story. _But I can't ask him that. It would be too awkward, and I_ technically _just met him. I've just gotta wait until he's comfortable talking about it._

"So, uh, don't take this the wrong way," Sam started, breaking me out of my reverie, "but d'you wanna take a shower?"

I laughed. "I look that bad, huh?"

"Alright, you know I didn't mean it like that." He rolled his eyes. "You're just covered in dirt and you've been in those clothes for a year."

"Good point," I conceded. "Alright, where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall; the last left."

"Thanks!" He nodded and turned to walk away, but I called him back. "Hey, Sam?"

He turned back around. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." I shrugged. "For, well, everything."

"Anything for—" He stopped himself with a grimace. "Anytime," he amended, and he left the room before I could tell if he was blushing.

The bathroom was just as cutesy as the rest of the house. The walls were a pale green, the towels were a light beige color, and both matched the paisley print on the shower curtain. I couldn't help grinning at how absolutely _Ella_ the whole house was.

While I waited for the water in the shower to heat up, I examined myself in the mirror, wondering if I looked as filthy as I felt.

I did.

My face was darker than I'd ever seen it, and that was sadly because of the dirt smudged all over it rather than me actually having a tan for once in my life. My platinum blonde hair was flat and still slightly damp from the sweat produced by exerting my powers earlier that day. What's more, I had two scars on my face: one ran from my left temple to the corner of my lip, and the other was straight down my right cheek, nearly missing my eye. _Where the hell did_ these _come from? I haven't had a scar since that wendigo that nearly got me killed._

I made a mental note to ask Sam about them later as I undressed and threw my clothes in a pile in the corner of the bathroom. I let out a happy sigh and closed my eyes as the hot water rushed over me, and I could almost _feel_ my stress melting away. Yeah, I had a lot of questions—if I believed everything that Sam said, I'd been dead for a year and lost ten years of my memory—and I knew those questions wouldn't all be easily answered. But, at the moment, I just stood under the stream of water and focused on nothing other than the feel of it hitting my body and rinsing away the layers of dirt on my skin.

That feeling of relaxation disappeared as soon as I glanced down at myself.

I let out a gasp and almost lost my balance as I took in the network of scars crossing over my abdomen, chest, arms, and legs. Five ran perpendicular to the wendigo scar on my chest and stopped under my ribs, and my stomach looked like two people had played about sixty games of tic-tac-toe across it. Scars crisscrossed my arms and legs; two bullet wounds had left their mark on my left shoulder; and my right thigh had a patch of wrinkled, red skin left by what must have been a bad burn. My breath came fast and hard, and the water suddenly felt too hot. I backed out of the stream and propped myself up against the wall as my head started spinning. _What the fuck_ happened _to me?! I'm not supposed to have scars! And certainly not this many! How could this_ happen _?!_

I hurriedly finished up my shower, a burning need to ask Sam about what _else_ had happened to me taking hold of my mind **.** I wrapped a towel around my body before walking out into the hall, wishing I'd had the idea to ask Sam for some new clothes before I'd taken a shower. It wasn't that _I_ was uncomfortable just wearing a towel; I just figured it would make Sam uncomfortable. But, if I was being honest, all the scars that marred my body made me feel more self-conscious than I'd ever felt before, and my brain warred against that insecurity with all its might.

"Sam!" I called as I made my way to the kitchen. I saw his back as I entered and started talking immediately. "Okay, one: can you tell me what the hell happened to my body because I look like a human tennis net and I'm _not_ okay with that. And two: can I get some clo—"

" _Gari_!" I was interrupted by an unfamiliar man hugging me. I stiffened as his arms wrapped around me, thinking of the fact that I was naked except for a thin towel.

" _Dean_ ," Sam sighed exasperatedly. "I told you she doesn't—"

"Couldn't help myself, Sammy," the man named Dean said. He stepped back with a grin pulled across his full lips, and I recognized him as the other guy in the photograph. He awkwardly raked a hand through his short, light brown hair as if just realizing how uncomfortable he'd made me. Though he shrugged apologetically, his bright green eyes showed no regret, only happiness, and I couldn't help the small grin that grew on my face in response to his joy and apparent relief. "Sorry, really," he told me, still grinning. "Sam told me you don't remember, but, hey, I haven't seen you in a year and we all thought you were dead, so can you blame me?"

"Eh, at least you didn't make out with me," I said casually, smirking at Sam, who blushed and looked away as his brother started laughing.

" _Really_ , Sammy?" Dean chuckled. "You couldn't even give her a second to explain herself?"

"Hey, you can't blame the guy for being enthusiastic," I defended jokingly. "Apparently, I was a big damn hero before I died."

Dean's smile faded slightly. "Yeah, Sam told me about it. Sorry I wasn't there to stop it."

I shrugged. "It's not like I remember it. Or anything else, for that matter… So how was your vacation in Purgatory?"

His grin returned to its former strength, but now I could tell that it was forced. I kind of regretted asking, but I was curious. Up until Sam had said something earlier, I hadn't known Purgatory existed. "Looks like a forest in Canada and it's full of all the things that go bump in the night. Hunter's paradise. I'm thinkin' of buyin' a summer home."

"I'm sure there's prime real estate just waiting to be bought out there."

"Oh, no kiddin'. Tons of river-front properties. Little bit of a pest issue, though."

"I'm sure you can get a job as an exterminator. I bet the pay's _great_."

Dean laughed. "Well, you may not remember anything, but you've got the same sense of humor."

"Why, thank you. So where's Ella? She's the only person I remember, and I'm kinda dying to see her."

"She took the kids by Jess's house. Our babysitter," he explained at the confusion on my face, and I nodded.

"I still can't believe she has kids…" I said wonderingly, and Dean chuckled. I turned to Sam, who I had the feeling had been watching me a little too closely. I suppressed a grin as his gaze darted away from mine, and I glanced down at my towel before looking back up at him hopefully. "So…clothes?"

He nodded. "Yeah, follow me."

I did as he said, saying, "I mean, I know you probably don't have anything that'll fit me, but I can deal with one of Ella's dresses if I absolutely have to—at least until we get me some more clothes. Her pants, not so much, since she's got a bigger ass and is also much shorter, and I'm pretty sure my lack of significant boob size would allow her shirts to swallow me whole, but—"

"Here," Sam interrupted, opening the door to what I supposed was his room, judging by the flannel in the closet and the small, open suitcase full of weapons at the foot of the bed. Stacks of books took up one corner of the room, and I itched to go through all of them. I'd bet there was so much information that I didn't know or had forgotten, and I couldn't wait for the chance to sit down and catch up.

"Okay, now I know _your_ clothes aren't gonna fit me," I said matter-of-factly, and he shook his head and led me into the room. "I mean, _maybe_ I could wear one of your shirts as a dress, but I dunno…" He walked over to the chest of drawers and pulled open the top drawer, revealing a bunch of black tank tops and lacy underwear. "Oh."

"We kept your stuff," he said unnecessarily, and he blushed as he realized he'd just shown me my underwear drawer. "We kept meaning to get rid of it, but we couldn't ever bring ourselves to do it. I guess that's a good thing now, right?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah, thanks." I glanced around the room again, knowing _exactly_ why my clothes were in his room, yet still wanting to hear it from him. "So…I take it we shared a—"

"I'll let you get dressed," he broke in hurriedly, his face getting redder, and he had left the room and shut the door before I had time to react. I stared at the closed door for a minute, smiling to myself at his awkwardness; then I shook myself out of it and started going through my clothes.

It looked like I hadn't updated my wardrobe in ten years. Almost everything I found was something I'd had in 2003. There was a lot of new underwear, a few new pairs of pants, and one or two new shirts, but that was about all that had changed. _Maybe I should take this new life as a chance to update my wardrobe… Nah. Too much effort._

 _So Dean seems nice, if a little overbearing at times,_ I thought as I pulled on a tank top and some skinny jeans. _Purgatory messed him up more than he's letting on, though. And Sam's been through too much, but I can tell he feels like he shouldn't complain after what his brother's gone through. And maybe what I went through, too, even though none of us have any idea what that is._

 _Gah, why do their names sound so_ familiar _? It's_ killing _me! Sam and Dean who? Sam and Dean…_

I let out a gasp of shock and anger as it hit me. Distrust, blame, and rage bubbled up in my stomach and made my palms sweat, and I squeezed my eyes closed against the rise of emotion and the power it threatened to bring with it.

I threw open the door and stormed back to the kitchen, the heat in my hands getting worse with every step. "Hey, you look—" Sam stopped midsentence, his grin fading as he saw the fury on my face, and he furrowed his brow worriedly. "Gari, what's wrong? Is everything o—?"

"Oh, everything's _fine_ ," I said scathingly, rolling my eyes. "It's just that I just now realized who you two are."

"Who we are?" Dean said confusedly, sharing a look with his younger brother. "What d'you mean?"

I let out a harsh laugh. "You're those piece of shit _Winchesters_ ," I spat, and I sighed internally as I felt my hand catch on fire.

I'd expected my anger to be reflected on the brothers' faces, but Sam looked at me with resignation, while Dean huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes in exasperation before letting out a tired, "Aw, man, not _again_."


	2. It's a Battle of Our Wills

"What the hell d'you mean, 'not again?!'" I said angrily.

"This was how you reacted the first time we met," Sam explained patiently. I noticed that he didn't look too bothered by my outburst, and that both confused and annoyed me. _My fucking_ hand _is on fire—he should be taking me pretty fucking seriously!_

Dean, on the other hand, had the appropriate reaction. He took a wary step back, his eyes on my hand, and said, "Yeah, it sucked. You broke my damn nose." Sam chuckled at the memory, but he quickly stopped as Dean glared at him.

"Look," Sam said, his voice gentle and nonthreatening. "Can we at least _talk_ about this before you burn us at the stake?"

I glared up at him, about to yell some more, but then I heard Greg's voice in my head: _Everyone's got their own story, G. Even monsters. Sometimes, ya just gotta listen._ I let out a deep breath and gave a reluctant nod.

Sam risked a small smile as Dean said, "You wanna put out your hand now or…?"

Annoyance sparked in me again, causing the flames to flare a little higher. "You wanna shut up for five seconds?" Sam hissed at his brother. "You didn't help the first time, and you're not helping now!"

Dean looked like he was about to argue; then he seemed to see his brother's point. "Okay. Sorry. Just—just ignore me."

"Easier said than done," I muttered. "You're _extremely_ obnoxious."

"I…really can't argue with that."

"So is it alright if we talk?" Sam pressed again. "Will you listen to us? Maybe if we fill you in on everything we've been through, you'll…hopefully not hate us so much."

"Okay, yeah, fine, whatever," I said irritably.

"Um, would you, uh…" He swallowed a little nervously and looked pointedly at my hand. "Would you mind?"

I grimaced, and a shameful blush rushed up my neck. "I, uh—I can't," I admitted. "I'm not so great at controlling it. I was working on it before Gr—" I stopped abruptly, my eyes widening in fear of what I'd almost said.

Sam nodded in understanding, seeming to know exactly what I was talking about. "Okay. That's fine. What can I do to help?" He started to reach for my other hand then seemed to think better of it and quickly straightened his arm by his side. I looked up at him curiously, and he blushed and avoided my eyes.

"Honestly?" I said slowly. "Um, running it under water has really been the only thing that works all the time."

"Are you serious?" Dean chuckled. "Wow, that's—" He broke off as both Sam and I glared at him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "That's—that's unfortunate," he finished lamely.

I rolled my eyes as Sam walked over to the sink and turned the water on. I followed him over and stuck my hand under the flow of water, giving a sigh of relief as the flames dissipated almost instantly. "Does it hurt?" Sam asked quietly.

"It kinda just…tickles," I said with a shrug. "I mean, as long as I'm controlling it, anyway. If it touches something else and then gets back on me, it feels like normal fire. Like, I set one of our hotel rooms on fire one time— _that_ hurt. I also ruined my favorite Rolling Stones shirt." Sam grinned at me, and I had to resist the urge to return it. _Stop it! Stop liking him! He's not your friend; he can't be trusted!_

His grin faded at the harsh look on my face, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, uh, d'you wanna go sit down or—"

"No," I interrupted brusquely. "I want you to plead your case. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you and your brother. Tell me how you're different from your asshole of a father."

"I don't get it," Dean said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "You got this problem with us 'cause our dad killed Ella's dad—you think it passes on genetically or somethin'?" I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering where he was going with this. "'Cause, if that's the case, shouldn't we be a little more wary of _you_?"

" _Dean_ …" Sam warned, watching me carefully.

"No, really, I need to know. I've been wonderin' this since the first time we met. How come you get to judge us for what our dad did, but the fact that your dad abused you and you ended up burnin' him alive never comes into play?"

I didn't realize I'd lunged at Dean until I was pressed up against Sam's chest, throwing punches that had no chance of hitting the older Winchester. "You son of a bitch!" I snarled. "I swear to God, I'll—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, Gari, calm down!" Sam urged, not even wincing when one of my fists struck him instead. "He's an asshole, okay? He shouldn't have said that." Sam shot his brother an incredulous and angry look, and Dean at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "He's an asshole. Just ignore him. _Please_."

I finally stopped fighting Sam, and I shoved him off of me roughly. "Don't touch me again," I said stiffly, and I quickly glanced away, unwilling to see the hurt on his ever-so-emotional face. I turned instead to his brother, who, to my immense pleasure, looked a little scared. "Don't you _ever_ bring that up again," I growled, "or I _swear_ I'll kill you."

Dean's naturally defiant nature—something I'd already picked up on—spurred him to fight back. "Yeah, not like I haven't heard _that_ one before," he said offhandedly with a roll of his eyes. "Guess what, sweetheart? I'm still right here."

I moved forward again, and again Sam intercepted me. "Your hand," he said, and I felt the familiar tickling sensation and sighed as I saw the flames. He glanced at his brother. "You wanna give us a minute? And then never talk again?"

The older Winchester finally seemed to have lost his anger, and something akin to regret showed on his face. He looked at me apologetically and said, "Look, I'm sorry; I was outta line; I don't know why I said—"

" _Dean_ ," Sam interrupted firmly. "Just give us a minute." Dean pressed his lips together and nodded once before walking out of the kitchen. "You okay?" Sam asked me quietly.

"Why the hell do _you_ care?" I snapped.

He gazed at me for a long moment with the most heartbreaking expression I'd ever seen. _Talk about puppy eyes. A giant Winchester should not be this fucking beautiful._ He crossed over to the sink again, and I joined him. "You _know_ why," he mumbled, staring at my hand as the fire died down, "don't you?"

I frowned as I dried off my hand; then I reached into my pocket and pulled out the creased and faded picture. "I've got a pretty good guess," I said as he took the picture from me and observed it with a sad smile on his face.

"This was right after I got my soul back," he said, still looking at the picture. "Ella made sure it cut off her stomach since she was pregnant at the time. It wasn't that hard to do—she's, what, like five-foot-two, and I'm—"

"The Jolly Green Giant?" I supplied, unable to help the teasing grin on my face.

"Oh, ha, ha," he said sarcastically. "Like I haven't heard _that_ one before."

"What about 'sexy Goliath?'" I asked, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "It's what I thought when you kissed me."

He laughed at that, and it was a warm, wonderful sound that was apparently contagious, for I started laughing, too. "No, you got me there. That's a first."

I stopped laughing as something he'd said earlier finally sank in. "Wait a second—did you say you lost your soul?!"

Sam sighed. "It's a long story."

"One of many, I'm guessing."

"You have _no_ idea."

"I'd like to," I admitted. "Uh, I-I'd like to know—to hear some of the long stories." He blinked in surprise. "Look, I'm not saying I'm cool with you, and I'm _definitely_ not cool with your brother—"

"Understandable."

"—but you two and Ella are apparently the only people I know. I can't just totally alienate you—at least, not until Ella gets back. No promises after that."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Okay. I can work with that."

"And, hey, even if I decide I utterly despise you in the long run, I'm still up for the occasional hookup."

His face turned beet red. "Y-you _what_?!"

I shrugged, enjoying watching him freak out probably more than I should have. "What can I say? You're an _excellent_ kisser." The weird montage that had happened when he kissed me the first time flashed through my head again, and I wondered what it meant. I couldn't pretend that I had my powers all figured out, but that was something that had _definitely_ never happened before, and I wasn't a big fan of it potentially happening again.

"I—uh—I-I'm not—uh, okay," he stuttered out.

I gave him a mock pout. "Aw, is that a no or…?" He shoved his hand in his pockets and ducked his head, refusing to answer, and I laughed. "I'll take it as a maybe."

"Look, uh, can we just—just go into the living room and maybe actually try to talk?" he practically pleaded, looking like he was resisting the urge to run from the room.

"Sure, Sammy," I said good-naturedly, and I wondered how long this mood would last before I flipped the switch again— _Probably until Dean opens his mouth._ "Whatever you say." Sam's head shot up then, and I frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Y-you called me Sammy," he said, and, as explanations went, that was pretty lacking.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Is that a bad thing? Should I not do that?"

"No, no, it's, uh…it's nothing. It's not important."

"Alrighty, then…" I followed him as he walked out of the kitchen. "Let's see how this goes."

"I'm sorry," Dean said as soon as I walked in the living room. "Really. I shouldn't have said what I said. I got mad. You kinda bring that out in me." I didn't reply; instead choosing to see what he'd say if I just watched him. He didn't disappoint. "Well, we, uh, we bring it out in each other. We fight all the time. Even after you stopped hatin' us, we're always annoyed about somethin'."

"I _totally_ see why I hang around you now," I said scathingly, sitting on the yellow and blue plaid loveseat. Sam looked like he wanted to join me, but he seemed to think better of it and instead sat down in the recliner not occupied by Dean.

"See, that's what I meant!" Dean said, nodding eagerly. "Always at each other's throats."

At about that time, there was a loud crash as the front door swung open and collided with the wall, and a mess of strawberry blonde curls threw itself on top of me. " _OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod_ ," its owner cried as she strangled the life out of me. " _Ican'tbelieveyou'rebackohmyGodyou'rereallyback_!"

" _C-can't b-breathe_!" I choked out. I could've sworn my ribs were cracking.

Ella finally released me, and she pulled back to stare at me, her big sapphire blue eyes brimming with tears and her cheeks red, meaning she was about to start bawling. "I-I can't believe—h-how'd ya—is it r-really—oh, my G-God—I-I j-just—"

This time I was the one to instigate the hug. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face into her curls as I fought the urge to cry. "I'm so glad I found you," I whispered, hoping to stop my voice from shaking. "When I woke up, I…I was so scared. I thought something happened to you, too."

"Nothin' happened to me," she assured me, her voice thick with tears. "I'm okay. You're okay. You're back. Oh, my God, you're _back_."

"Elle, where are the kids?" Dean asked, and I could tell that he was reluctant to break up our moment.

"With Jess," she replied as she pulled away from me. "Just for a few more hours. I was plannin' on kickin' your brother out and us doin' somethin' special, but…" She looked back at me and gave me a watery grin. "But that can wait."

I beamed back at her. Suddenly, everything felt right again. I'd died and come back with ten years of my memories missing, and none of that mattered because I was with Ella, and we'd figure out whatever happened together. "I can't believe you have _kids_!" I said happily. " _Three_ kids! What the hell?"

Ella's smile faded slowly. "What d'ya mean?" she asked confusedly. "Gari, ya know I got three kids. Hell, I was about to pop when ya—"

"Yeah, Elle, about that…" Dean broke in, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at his brother, obviously hoping Sam would explain.

The younger Winchester rose to the occasion, of course. "Elle, she, uh—she doesn't remember any of that," he said softly, as though hoping to break it to her gently.

"I-I don't understand," Ella said slowly.

"She's back, yeah, but she doesn't remember the past ten years. She woke up thinking it was 2003," he explained.

"Gari, what…?" She looked at me with wide eyes, as if waiting for me to say that we were just playing a joke.

"It's true, Elle," I nodded. "Last thing I remember was that kelpie in Michigan."

Her eyes got even wider, if that was possible. "B-but that was before—" She broke off abruptly, looking scared, and I frowned in confusion.

I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but Sam beat me to it. "Before what, Elle?"

She shook her head rapidly. "It's nothin'. Never mind."

"Ella?"

"No, no, I was wrong. Got my timelines mixed up. It's been ten years, y'know." She shrugged and smiled, but I could tell that it was forced. She'd never been a good liar, but I decided to play along. I didn't want to get into some stupid argument with her the moment I saw her again. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Sam, and I realized he'd noticed that she was lying, too. But, like me, he didn't question her. "Ya couldn'ta mentioned that in your text?" Ella said accusingly to Dean, and he shrugged apologetically. "So, uh, what time'd ya get back?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "Few hours ago, maybe. Why d'you have to live so far away from downtown? I had to get a ride from one of your coworkers."

"Alice, I'm guessin'?" I nodded. "Yeah, she's sweet." She frowned suddenly. "Why were ya downtown?"

"Well, that's where you buried me. I had to dig my way out."

She let out a small gasp, and her eyes filled with tears again. "Oh, my God, I didn't think about—oh, are ya okay? That had to've been _awful_!"

"Not somethin' _I'd_ wanna do again," Dean muttered, and I spun to face him. "I went to Hell," he supplied at the look on my face. Then he gestured to his brother. "We both did. Separate times, though."

I turned back to Sam. "Was that before or after you lost your soul?"

"Before. I lost my soul _because_ of Hell."

Dean nodded. "And then he went a little off the rails once we got it back."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry it was kinda hard to stay sane while _hallucinating Lucifer_."

"I'm so confused…" I muttered.

"Don't worry; we'll give you a play-by-play," Dean said. "So, first—"

"Why don't we give her the _Supernatural_ books and start from there?" Sam suggested.

"Huh, yeah, that'd probably be better."

"They're books about us," Sam explained to me. "Me and Dean—it was before we met you and Ella."

I shook my head slowly. "Now I'm even _more_ confused."

"You still got her copies in your room?" Dean asked his brother, and Sam nodded once. Dean got up and headed out of the living room.

"My copies?" I echoed.

"You bought them all when I went to Hell," Sam said. "They're a little old and battered—you read them a lot."

"O-oh. Okay."

Ella put her hand on my shoulder. "Ya doin' alright?" she asked worriedly.

"…I'm a little overwhelmed," I said honestly.

"Alright!" Dean said as he sat back down in his recliner. He tossed me a worn out paperback. "Everything you need to know starts there."

My eyes widened as I stared down at the cover. Two shirtless, muscular men in blue jeans were pulling romance novel poses in front of a black '67 Impala. I recognized Dean instantly—he was the shorter of the two, and his hair was the proper length. The man who was supposed to be Sam, however, had Fabio hair that was dramatically blowing in the wind. I snorted with laughter, and, when I looked up at Sam, I knew he could tell what I was laughing at. "It looks just like you, Sammy," I said with a smirk.

Again, calling him that seemed to catch him off-guard, and Dean shot him a curious and maybe even concerned look. "Oh, shut up," Sam said with a playful roll of his eyes.

"You gonna make me?" I teased, and he blushed and looked away. I stared back down at the cover. "He really called the first book 'Pilot?' It's not like it's a TV show or anything."

"Yeah, Chuck's got some cheesy titles and some even cheesier writing," Dean said with a nod, finally tearing his eyes away from his brother. "Also, they're borderline erotica. I'm full-frontal."

I made a face. "I'll be sure to skip those parts, then. How many books are there?"

"Uh…around sixty?"

"Excuse me?"

"They're short and crappy—it's not like it's all that time consuming."

"So, what, you've read them?"

He scoffed. "No, thanks. I _lived_ all that crap—no chance I'm gonna read about it."

I looked at Sam and Ella. "What about you two?"

"I'm about halfway through season two," Ella said. "They're split up into seasons—also like a TV show."

"Sam?"

"I've read a few."

It didn't seem like he was going to elaborate, so I simply nodded. "Okay… I'll put that on my to-do list."

A small, awkward silence passed, but Ella soon broke it. "So who's hungry?"

"I had cookies earlier," I said, glancing at Sam, "so I'm alright." The younger Winchester blushed again, and, this time, Ella noticed it. She narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two of us, but she surprisingly kept quiet.

"I'll go into town," Sam volunteered. "And Dean can come with me." Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but Sam quickly said, "You two need some time to catch up." He smiled at Ella and glanced nervously at me as Dean heaved a sigh.

"Chinese?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, China Kitchen," Ella nodded. "Get me my usual."

"Got it. And, Gari, I'm guessin' vegetable lo mein and as many fried doughnuts as I can carry?"

I blinked, surprised that he knew that. "Y-yeah," I mumbled. "Thanks."

"Be back soon." He leaned over and kissed the top of Ella's head, and she giggled and swatted him away when he messed up her hair. The Winchesters walked out of the house, and I heard a car rev up and pull out of the driveway.

"This is so weird," I said, shaking my head.

"Which part?" Ella asked wryly.

"You getting impregnated by a Winchester three times is pretty high up on that list."

" _Two_ times," she corrected. "Sami and Johnny are twins."

"Sami…" I said slowly. "After Sam?"

She nodded. "I had 'em the year he died. Samantha Janine and Jonathan Gregory. It's not like we're married or anythin', so we couldn't really decide on what their last names were gonna be. I think we're just gonna hyphenate now: the Harken-Winchesters."

"And Jonathan?" I said, though I already knew the answer.

She frowned and looked away. "I thought it was right," she said. "Dean loved his dad. They had problems, but he loved him. I got Gregory, so I figured it was fair."

"I don't understand, Elle. How did this _happen_?"

"Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other _very_ much—"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Ella. C'mon. Be serious."

"They're not like him, Gari," she said quietly. "We thought they were. We wanted to believe they were—you, 'specially. But they're not. I love 'em both _so much_ —and _you_ did, too, even if ya don't remember it. They're our boys, sis. Plain and simple."

"I-I can't just _accept_ that," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I-I don't see how—we said we'd— _he just died last year_ ," I managed finally, struggling to speak around the lump in my throat.

Ella's eyes filled with tears. "No, he didn't," she murmured. "I know it feels like it, but it's been ten years. So much has happened—he wouldn't want ya to hold a grudge for him."

"You cancelled his phone," I accused, hoping that anger would rule out sadness, but the two just seemed to merge and make it worse. "We said we'd never cancel it, and you _did_."

" _We_ did," she said. "It took us a whole other year to do it, but we did. We weren't healthy— _you_ weren't healthy. Ya called it every day. Even after my werewolf obsession died down, ya still kept callin' that number. We _had_ to cancel it."

I didn't know what to say to that—I remembered her werewolf obsession _very_ clearly, and if I'd been worse than that, I could almost understand. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. "Everything feels so strange," I whispered. "You're you, but you're not. You're different—you've got kids and a sorta-husband and a house… You're balanced. _Normal_."

"Oh, sweetie, if ya think this is me balanced—" She broke off as I sniffled loudly and stubbornly blinked back tears. "Y'know, it's okay to cry," she said gently. "Ya've been through a lot today—comin' back to life and not rememberin' anythin'. That's enough to make anyone cry."

"N-no, I…I haven't," I said, hiding my face. "Not since Greg."

"Well, newsflash: that ended just about as soon as you stopped mindlessly hatin' Sam," she said matter-of-factly.

The almost harshness of her voice startled me out of my moping, and I frowned at her. "What's going on?" I asked. "With us? Sam and me?"

"That's what I wanna know," she said with a nod. "I thought ya hated him, but you're flirtin' even more than ya did the first time ya met."

"He thought I was _me_ me when I first showed up," I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "And he sorta swept me off my feet." She raised her eyebrows in confusion. "He kissed me. Like, full-on romance novel kiss, with his hands tangled in my hair and his _tongue_ —" I gave a sheepish laugh and ducked my head.

"So it was good then, huh?" she said with a grin. "All passionate and everythin'?"

"He was vigorous, Ella," I nodded. " _Very_ vigorous."

Ella laughed so hard she snorted, and I couldn't help but laugh with her. _God, I missed her so much. It feels like I've been away from her for years._ "And ya actually let him?" she asked once she stopped laughing.

"Hey, if the hottest guy you've ever seen comes up and kisses you, are you _really_ gonna push him away?"

She got a dreamy look on her face, and I knew she was thinking of Dean. "Nope," she said. "Not a chance."

"I mean, I finally came back to my senses and shoved him off me, but it was great while it lasted. And teasing him is just _too_ fun. Have you _seen_ the way he blushes? It's fricking adorable, and it pisses me off."

" _That's_ the Gari I know and love," she said appreciatively.

"But, uh, when he kissed me…" I trailed off uncomfortably. From what I remembered, we didn't talk about my powers that much. I knew that it had always upset her when she couldn't help me understand something that was happening to me. But, right then, I just needed to talk to her. "When he kissed me, I saw something."

"Fireworks?" she guessed jokingly.

"No, uh…it was like one of those montages in the movies, but sped up, a-and in every scene, it was, uh…it was _us_. Him and me. A-and it wasn't just _seeing_ it; it was _feeling_ it, too. There were so many emotions—desperation was really prominent."

"Y'all _did_ have a lot of near-death experiences together. I imagine y'all were usually pretty desperate to get it on."

I slapped her arm as a blush crept up my neck. "Oh, shut up." I frowned and stared down at my knees. "So we were _that_ serious, then?" I asked hesitantly.

"Ya must've noticed y'all share a room," she said reasonably. "And I'm guessin' ya found the picture I put in your pocket. And—" She looked like she wanted to say something else but thought better of it. I wondered what it was, but then I figured that anything she was withholding was something I would find out later—she was probably trying to stop me from getting too overwhelmed.

"Was I really that happy?" I asked, thinking back to the picture. Sam had left it on the kitchen counter, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to go get it or not. It was weird seeing myself that way and not remembering any of it.

"When ya could be," she said with a nod. "Y'all made it work. Last year was the happiest I'd ever seen ya, and Sam was crazy for over half of that."

"What d'you—oh. Hallucinating Lucifer, right?" She nodded. "Oh, man. Did we really get caught up in the Winchester family drama?"

Ella laughed. "Unfortunately. But we helped stop the Apocalypse, and that's gotta count for somethin', right?"

"Wait, like, capital-A Apocalypse? Like, _biblical_?"

"Ugh, God, I keep forgettin' ya don't know. I don't wanna tell ya anythin' too insane—Sam was right: the books are a good way to get ya into everythin' without it bein' all batshit."

"I'll take your word for it. So what's the third one?"

"Huh?"

"The third kid. What's its name?"

"Oh, uh…" She shrugged, her cheeks turning red. "Robert Lee," she said at last.

"You're one letter away from being a Confederate general," I pointed out.

She let out a snort of laughter. "Sam said you'd be sure to bring it up, and he was right."

"He really knows me _that_ well?"

"Sometimes I think he knows ya better than I do," she admitted. "Don't tell him I said that, though. Those Winchesters don't need an ego boost. 'Specially not the oldest one."

I frowned and switched the subject back to Robert Lee. "So what d'you call him? Robert? Rob? Bobby?"

"Lee," she said, and she watched me as if waiting for a reaction.

"You wanna explain the names?"

"Robert was from Bobby Singer—he died last year, and we were all real close. He was kinda like the boys' second dad. And, uh, kinda like yours, too."

"I don't believe that," I said stubbornly. " _No one_ could replace Greg."

"He didn't; that's not what I'm sayin'," she said, sounding frustrated. "Y'all were just really close. Ya only had a good dad four years of your life, Gari. Bobby just gave ya a little extra time to be looked after. And, really, he raised those boys. If they're like anyone at all, they're like him. And that should be reassurin' 'cause Bobby Singer's one of the best people who's ever lived."

I fell silent, unsure of how to reply. "And, uh, and Lee?" I said finally.

"Haven't ya guessed yet?" she said with a watery smile.

It suddenly hit me. "Wait—for _me_?!"

She nodded earnestly. "Last year, ya joked about how I should name a kid after ya. Figured I might as well do it. Plus, again, you were dead, so… I'm sure ya've noticed the trend in the names by now."

I nodded. "A little morbid, don't you think?"

"How else are they gonna be remembered?"

I was saved from having to think of an answer by the Winchesters entering the house again, laden with Chinese food and beer. "Alright, ladies, stop talkin' about me," Dean joked as he and Sam started passing out the food. "So did you get her up to speed on anything good?" he asked Ella. He bypassed the chopsticks and went for the fork, which he immediately used to start shoveling food in his mouth as though he hadn't eaten in years.

"Baby names," Ella said, and I mentally thanked her for not talking about my near-breakdown. "And how good of a kisser Sam is."

The younger Winchester had just taken a bite of fried rice, and he coughed roughly as he choked on it. His face was red again, but I couldn't tell if it was more from embarrassment or almost choking to death. "Can we _not_ talk about that anymore?" he asked hoarsely, and Dean laughed.

"Nah, Sammy—you did it, you gotta suffer the consequences." Dean shrugged. "It could be worse—she could've been sayin' you're a _bad_ kisser."

At first, I was moderately comfortable eating with the Winchesters. But the longer dinner wore on, the antsier I got. _Why am I with them? Why can't it just be Ella and me? They're strangers; they don't belong with us. And they're_ Winchesters _—we shouldn't even be_ near _them. They act so normal, and it's driving me_ insane _. They act like they know me, like I'm their friend—how can they know me? How could I have let myself become their friend? We said we'd never get attached. We said we'd always keep going. I can't do this. I can't sit here and pretend I'm normal and—_

"Gari?" Sam said worriedly, breaking me out of my thoughts, and it was then that I realized that I was standing up. My lo mein was splattered on the floor, and Dean and Ella were watching me with concerned gazes.

"I-I need some air," I said lamely. "I'll clean that up," I told Ella, "i-in a minute." I rushed out of the house, breaking into a run as I hit the driveway. I'd never been someone to run on a daily basis—I figured I got enough of a workout hunting monsters—but, sometimes, especially in the year since Greg had died, the best way to clear my head was to just run as far away from civilization as I could and let my powers go free.

Being in as small of a town as Abbeville, it didn't take too long to get away from civilization. I pushed my way through a clump of trees and entered a clearing. I walked to the very center, stretched my arms out to the sides, and screamed as loud as I could. Thunder and lightning crashed around me, and freezing cold rain poured down heavily, soaking me to the bone. I sank to my knees and buried my head in my hands, and I finally let myself cry. For the first time, I cried for me. I cried for the fact that I'd died; I cried for the fact that I'd come back. I cried for the fact that I could at once remember nothing about the past ten years but _so much_ about the year before that. I cried for feeling so out-of-place, for being covered in scars, for being told to give up the grudge that had kept me going for what felt like _centuries_.

And, finally, I couldn't cry anymore.

My tears stopped, but the rain kept going. Only then did I realize how cold I was, and I ran my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself. _C'mon, rain,_ I thought agitatedly. _You can stop now!_ But the storm continued, and I heaved a defeated sigh as I got back to my feet. I'd run for at least fifteen minutes before finding the clearing, and I dreaded having to make the trek back. I pushed back through the trees and walked along the side of the road, wishing I knew how to teleport and also that I'd brought a rain jacket. _It looks like it hit the whole town,_ I realized, and I couldn't help being impressed. _That's the biggest it's ever been._

Just then, I saw headlights up ahead, and I waved my hands frantically. _Hopefully it's a kind stranger and not a creepy dude in a van._ I changed my mind and started wishing for the van as John Winchester's Impala stopped right in front of me and Sam got out. "Of c- _course_ it's you," I huffed, rolling my eyes. I noticed how my voice shook from the cold, and I hated it.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. He seemed completely oblivious to the rain. "Here, take my jacket." Before I had time to protest, he had slipped off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. It was actually a _lot_ warmer, but I wasn't going to tell _him_ that. "C'mon, let's go back home." I silently followed him to the car and got into the passenger side. "Did you do this?" he asked, and I nodded. "Wow. I always forget how powerful you are."

"W-why'd _you_ come after me?" I asked rudely, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Are you still cold?" he said instead, and he must have taken the sound of my teeth chattering as a yes, for he cranked up the heat and glanced at me worriedly. I let out a happy sigh as the heat hit me, and I sank deeper into his jacket. It smelled like old books and alcohol and Irish Spring body wash, and, as I closed my eyes, memories assaulted me again.

A jumble of images flew by, and they would've seemed totally random if not for the smell that accompanied them. I was sleeping curled up to a pillow; there was a jacket around my shoulders; I shuffled around in a large plaid shirt; and then there was Sam—hugging me, holding me, laying beside me with his arm around my waist and my head on his chest.

I let out a gasp as those final images hit, and Sam looked over at me again. "What's wrong?" he asked urgently.

"N-nothing," I lied, and I wasn't sure if my voice was shaking from the cold or from what I'd seen. "J-just cold."

"When we get back, we'll get you into some dry clothes, okay?"

"Y-you're such a m-mother hen," I grumbled.

Something flashed over his face, the same thing that happened when I'd called him Sammy, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. I wondered what that was—was I insulting him somehow? Or was it something else? I wanted to ask him, but I didn't know how, and the extremely stubborn side of me refused to give in to the urge to talk to him again.

When we pulled up into the driveway, I saw that Greg's Impala was gone. "W-where—?"

"They went to get the kids and Riot," Sam told me.

"W-who's Riot?"

"Our dog. He goes everywhere with Sami and Johnny."

"I'm m-more of a c-cat person," I said, though I didn't know why that was important. We got out of the car, and he came and pulled his jacket up over my head to shield me from the rain as we hurried inside.

"I never would've guessed," he said, and he sounded almost bitter. Then I realized it was pain in his voice, and I frowned. "C'mon." He led me down the hall and into what used to be our room. Instead of going through the chest of drawers for my clothes, he pulled a flannel shirt out of the closet and handed it to me. "What?" he said at the look on my face. "You don't own a single long-sleeved shirt. You have like twenty t-shirts and tank tops and one leather jacket. You really think those are gonna get you warm?" I supposed I saw his point. I shrugged out of his jacket and pulled my shirt over my head then tossed it on the floor. He was blushing again, looking pointedly at the ground. "W-what are you—?"

"N-not like you haven't seen me naked before, i-is it?" I challenged. In all honesty, I just didn't care anymore. I'd never been shy about my body in the first place, and I didn't see why I should start feeling that way now, even if I _was_ all scarred.

"I, uh, I just thought you'd have on a bra," he said lamely, and he covered his eyes as I stripped off my jeans.

"Uh, n-no, not g-generally," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "Wait, d-does that mean I s-start wearing b-bras in the future?" I groaned. I decided to be kind and put on Sam's shirt before I took off my underwear. He was right—it _was_ extremely warm. It was grey plaid, and it fell about a third of the way down my thighs. I quickly tied my wet hair up in a bun before it could soak the shirt. I rummaged around in my underwear drawer and turned back to Sam when I was done. "Y-you can stop b-being a b-baby now," I told him, and he removed his hands from his face.

"I'm not the one who ran off and caused a thunderstorm," he said shortly, and I was surprised at the attitude. He'd been so gentle and careful with me since I'd gotten back, and I'd been getting tired of it. This, however, was refreshing. I bent down to grab his jacket, looking forward to the warmth and the smell, but he beat me to it. Our hands touched as he handed me the jacket, and I drew back quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to _touch_ you," he said, and this time, he was _definitely_ bitter.

I pulled the jacket tight around me and struggled with the zipper. "T-that's more like it," I said approvingly. "I-I've been a total b-b-b—" I broke off as a particularly violent shiver shook me. He pushed my hands away and zipped up the jacket then rubbed his hands over my arms.

"Better?" he asked, and I noticed that his voice had softened again at my almost apology.

I closed my eyes and nodded slowly. "Mhm," I sighed contently as I started heating up again.

"Gari, I, uh…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if I made you feel, um… _pressured_ in any way—I didn't mean to, really; I just…it's good to have you back."

I opened my eyes then, and I noticed he was regarding me with that puppy-eyed expression I'd seen earlier. "You didn't," I promised him.

"Not even when I kissed you?" He played it as a joke, but I could tell that he was seriously worried.

"Not even then." I bit my lip, feeling hesitant for some reason—this wasn't a feeling I was used to. "Not even if you did it again," I said softly.

My hesitation was mirrored on his face as his eyes flickered down to my lips and he swallowed roughly. "I know it's weird knowing that we, uh, that we were together," he said somewhat distractedly as I licked my lips, purposely drawing focus. "And I-I really don't want you to feel obligated to, uh, to even _like_ me…"

"I'd like you a hell of a lot better if you'd make your move."

 _That_ did the trick. His mouth crushed against mine, all hunger and desperation and desire, and I went along with it, enjoying the passion and the way he held me to him. He fumbled at the elastic in my hair, and he ran his hands through the damp strands once he'd finally succeeded. I stopped touching him briefly to unzip his jacket and I tossed it into a corner of the room—I was _definitely_ getting warm enough now. His hands ran down my back and under my legs, and he hitched me up around his waist before carrying me over to the bed. He dropped down, looming over me, and I rolled us to where I was straddling him.

"I can't promise you—" I said in between all the kissing and the moaning "—that I'm gonna like you in the morning."

"I don't care," he all but growled, and his voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Well, now that—" I gasped as his mouth trailed to my neck "— _that's_ settled…"

My hands trailed down to the fly of his jeans, and my fingers had just slipped inside when he stopped me. His hands wrapped around my wrists, and he sat up, pushing me back. "I can't," he said, shaking his head. "It's not fair of me to—"

"The last I checked, _I_ was the one telling you to kiss me again," I interrupted. "Don't you think I would've stopped you if I'd wanted to? Unless…" I frowned as he looked away. "Unless you stopped me for _you_. You did, didn't you?"

"You don't like me," Sam said quietly. "You said it yourself. You don't even remember me. I can't—not like this. I thought that I could, but I can't."

I was so shocked by his honesty that I couldn't think of anything witty to say. "Huh. Okay. That's a first. But, hey, if you're not into it, you're not into it."

"Gari, no," he said, picking up on the slight offense I'd tried to hide in my voice. "No, that's not it. It's not you; it's—"

"Except that it _is_ me. And I get it. I'm not the me you know. It's cool, Sam. It's _totally_ cool."

"Gari—"

"So, uh, I'm really tired," I said, conveniently yawning right then, "long day and all. Are there only two bedrooms in this dollhouse?"

"And the nursery," Sam said, seeming to have given up on his excuses—which were totally valid; the rejection just hurt a little more than I'd expected it to. "They're talking about adding onto the house when the twins start getting bigger."

"Right. Smart." I pulled my hair back up in a bun and climbed off the bed. "So, uh, I'm gonna go now—the couch is calling my name."

"No, no, take the bed," he insisted, also standing up.

"And make the giant take the small couch? Can you even fit on it?"

"You've been lying in a grave for a year—you deserve a good mattress."

I couldn't believe we were starting to argue about sleeping arrangements. "Alright, fine," I gave in. "So which one's my pillow?"

The weird look—which I'd now decided was a form of sadness—crossed his face again, and I sighed. He grabbed a pillow seemingly at random and pointed to the remaining one. "That one," he said. "Mind if I take the quilt?" I shook my head, and he grabbed the quilt at the foot of the bed.

"D'you, uh…d'you want your shirt back?" I asked him. "I'm warm now, so…"

"You're fine," he said. "I'll get it back later."

He turned to go, but I called him back. "Sam?" He looked over his shoulder at me. "You should know that I was being honest: I really _don't_ know if I'll like you in the morning. In fact, I kinda doubt it." I didn't know why I felt the need to warn him—maybe it was the panic that had been building in my brain again from the moment his lips touched mine a second time.

He didn't seem to know what to say to that. "Lemme know if you need anything," he told me; then he walked out and shut the door, leaving me all alone in the unfamiliar room we used to share.


	3. I'm Back in the Saddle Again

I woke to the sounds of a baby crying and a dog barking. "Dog!" Dean yelled from somewhere down the hall. "Shut up!"

The dog stopped barking immediately, and I heard Ella say tiredly, "His name's _Riot_."

"His name's Dog when he's barkin' like that," Dean shot back, and I heard his feet shuffle past my door. The crying baby sound came with him, and I figured he was trying to calm Lee down.

I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and sighed. _9:30. Great._ I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow. It smelled like Sam—the whole room did—and that thought made me sigh again. _That was so fucking_ stupid _. Why the_ fuck _would I think that that was okay?_ I couldn't decide if I was more disgusted with myself or him. _He's a fucking_ Winchester _, and I almost…_ ugh _. I'm gonna need to take a bath in acid to get him off me._

On the other hand, though, I just felt guilty. I had taken advantage of him, of the past we had that only he remembered. _He's a grown man—he can make his own choices! He didn't_ have _to kiss me!_ I thought stubbornly, determined to stop feeling bad for him. But I knew that it was mostly my fault—I had urged him on after seeing the way he looked at me, after finding out what I'd meant to him. I couldn't blame him for acting on those feelings when I'd been so forward, and I couldn't blame him for stopping before it went too far. I _couldn't_ blame him—but I wanted to, and anger and annoyance rose up inside me all the same.

There was a knock on my door, and Ella poked her head in. "Mornin'!" she said cheerfully. "Ya sleep okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," I said with a nod.

"Dean's makin' pancakes—want some?"

I struggled between my distrust of Dean and my growing hunger. My stomach growled then, making my mind up for me. "Yeah. Pancakes sound nice."

"Make some extra!" Ella called over her shoulder.

"Got it!" Dean replied.

Ella came into the room and sat down on the corner of the bed. "Ya doin' okay?" she asked worriedly, and I nodded. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked me up and down. "Why're ya wearin' Sam's shirt?"

"He gave it to me so I could get warm," I explained, and her question brought forth one of my own. "So, uh, why did Sam come after me last night?" I said, staring at my hands. "Why didn't _you_?"

"We had to get the kids from Jess," she explained gently, as if waiting for me to explode. "And Sam's always been good at calmin' ya down—we figured it was worth a shot."

I frowned at her. "Are we not close anymore?"

She took my hands and squeezed them tightly. "No, sweetie, we are! You're still my sister! You're still my favorite person in the whole, wide world!"

"Then what happened to us?"

"I stopped huntin'," she said. "I got pregnant and bought a house, and I stopped—ya didn't. Ya kept huntin' with the boys, and we didn't see each other as much. Sam was there when I couldn't be."

"I don't like it," I said, shaking my head. "We weren't supposed to get attached—just salt, sex, and single-malt whiskey, remember?"

Ella laughed at that. "I remember. But things change, sis. We both fell in love with those boys, whether we wanted to or not. We didn't really get a say in the matter."

"You know that things have changed again, though, right?" I said sourly. "I _don't_ love them. And you can tell me that I eventually will," I said hurriedly as she opened her mouth, "but I disagree. You had time to get used to them—you met them _years_ after Greg. For me…" I trailed off, and I stared down at my hands again. "They look too much like John," I muttered. "Especially Dean. Every time I see him, I see his father pulling that trigger."

"It wasn't him," she said, squeezing my hands again. "Ya can't put that on him. Ya can't blame him for what John did. It's not fair to him. To _either_ of them."

"So, what, you're saying I should push back every single horrible feeling I have right away, just like _that_?!" I snapped. " _God_ , Ella, I may be a freak, but I'm not a fucking miracle worker!"

"That's not what I meant, and ya know it," she said sternly. "I'm sayin' ya gotta start workin' past that. 'Cause neither of those boys are goin' anywhere, and _you_ sure as hell better not be, either. And you're _not_ a freak, so don't even _think_ stuff like that." She gazed up at me with big, sad eyes. "This is the first time in a year my whole family's been back together," she said quietly. "I just want y'all to be okay."

I knew that she was manipulating me, trying to guilt me into behaving, and I wasn't going to let it work. It would take a lot more than a tearful plea from her to change my mind about the Winchesters. _They took her away,_ I thought bitterly. _She fell in love with Dean and had his kids, and she's spent the last year with Sam. She's not my Ella anymore—she's_ theirs _._ I frowned and broke eye contact, and I could tell she got the message when she heaved a defeated sigh.

"Breakfast!" Dean called suddenly, and Ella released my hands and got off the bed.

"Ya comin'?" she asked.

"Changed my mind," I replied shortly. "I'm not hungry."

She put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at me. "So you're just gonna sit in here all day?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Fine, whatever," she said with a roll of her eyes. As she stormed away, she said, "Starve to death for all I care—it'd certainly save _me_ some trouble."

She slammed the door behind her, and I let out a long, low, deep breath. I hadn't wanted to fight with her—I _hated_ fighting with her—but I couldn't believe she could expect me to just be okay with Sam and Dean only a day after I'd gotten back. Hell, I couldn't believe she expected me to be okay with them _ever_.

My stomach growled again, and I huffed in annoyance. I had two options: go into the kitchen and converse with Dean or curl up under the covers and go back to sleep. I took the option that required less effort and caused me less annoyance, and I pulled the covers up to my chin, wishing that sleep would take me quickly and that maybe I'd wake up back when things made sense.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

A few hours later, I woke up again. I was hungrier than ever, but I still refused to admit defeat and ask for food. With a groan, I climbed out of bed and made my way out into the hallway, following the sound of voices toward the living room. When I heard my name, I stopped right inside the hall, making sure they couldn't see me, and I waited to hear what they were saying about me.

"Look, she doesn't remember much of anythin' after Dad died. This is a different Gari from the one y'all know." Ella sounded really worried, but I didn't see what the big deal was. How different could I be from the current me?

"I don't see how she could be _that_ different," one of the Winchesters said, echoing my thoughts. Judging by the gruffness of his voice, I guessed it was Dean.

" _How_ different?" the other Winchester asked. He sounded like he was taking this more seriously than his brother.

"After Dad…" Ella paused as she thought. "She was volatile, angry, uncontrollable. She'd go into these fits when huntin' where she'd just let her powers go and didn't care what happened, or she'd freeze up and not be able to do anythin'. She wasn't sleepin', she hardly ate, and she'd go days barely speakin' to me."

"It was _that_ bad?!" Sam asked, and I heard more than just shock in his voice. _Pain? Why does_ my _pain hurt_ him _? Ugh, why is everything so emotional with him?_

"How'd she get over it?" asked Dean.

Ella sighed. "Lenore."

"Lenore?"

"Shit," Sam hissed. _Who the fuck is Lenore?_

"So _that's_ why she was so devastated when Cas killed her," Dean concluded. "She wasn't just a past girlfriend; she helped her cope with losin' Greg." _Girlfriend?_

"Wait, _what_?" Sam and Ella exclaimed.

"I thought they were just really good friends!" Sam said.

"She never told me they dated!" Ella complained. "How come _you_ know?!"

"I guess she just tells me more than she tells you two," the older Winchester said triumphantly. "It's probably because we're so alike. We've always had more in common."

" _Deaaan_!" Ella whined, and I could picture her sticking out her bottom lip in a pout. "Why'd she tell ya?"

The amusement faded slightly from Dean's voice as he said, "When we came to see you that week after Bobby died and we got drunk, she told me they'd dated."

"Was that before or after you called her a monster?" Sam asked quietly, and an uncomfortable silence suddenly flooded the living room.

 _Dean called me a monster? Even though we're supposedly so close? What did I do to deserve_ that _?! It's not_ my _fault I have these powers! I haven't hurt anyone since I was nine, and that was an accident! That's not enough to warrant being called a monster!_

I could still feel the tension covering the three of them from my eavesdropping spot, and I decided I'd better intervene before a fight broke out, though I wasn't sure why I cared so much. It wasn't like I knew the Winchesters; it wasn't like I cared about them. _But, apparently, they care about me. Even if they call me "monster" sometimes._

I shuffled into the living room without a word and stood awkwardly beside Ella's chair. It seemed like I'd walked in just in time, for Ella quickly clamped her mouth shut, and I knew she'd been about to bless Dean out. "We're gonna talk about this later, got it?" she said to him, striving to keep her voice neutral, and he gave her a terse nod.

My eyes flicked over to Sam, and I caught him staring at me. He blushed and looked away, and I almost smiled. _All that blushing is so freaking cute._ I mentally shook myself, surprised at my thoughts. _What the hell am I thinking? He's still a fucking Winchester. He's still just another distraction, another attachment I don't need. Smiling at him will just give him false hope._

"You, uh…you wanna sit down?" Sam asked shyly, gesturing to the empty spot on the couch beside him.

"No."

He blinked once, obviously made uncomfortable by my curt reply. "Okay…" he said slowly, and he turned his gaze away from me again, now staring down at the floor. I instantly regretted my rudeness, and I had the strangest urge to apologize. _What the fuck?! Get your shit together, G!_

"So, uh, Gari," Ella said, and I looked at her curiously. "Ya sleep okay?"

I nodded once. "I guess."

"Ya hungry?"

"No."

"Ya needa eat sometime, y'know."

"Yeah, well, not now."

Ella breathed out a long sigh. "Alright, whatever. Ya get hungry, ya can find somethin' yourself. Ya know where the kitchen is."

"Yeah."

"Way to be grateful," Dean muttered, and I glared at him.

"Back the fuck off, _Winchester_!" I snarled.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I still can't believe we're back to this. Are you gonna break my nose again? Because once was enough for me, thanks."

I frowned in confusion. "What?" _He mentioned that yesterday, didn't he?_

"One of the first times we met, Dean was being a dick and you broke his nose," Sam explained, one side of his mouth quirking up in a tiny grin. "It was pretty great."

"Yeah, for _you_ ," Dean mumbled.

"Didn't you and Ella kinda get together right after that, though?" Sam teased.

"Okay, so it wasn't _all_ bad," Dean amended, and he grinned cheekily at Ella, who laughed and shook her head.

"Any leads on Kevin?" Ella asked as her laughter died down. She seemed hesitant to ask, and, as I saw the angry look that Dean shot Sam, I understood why.

"You said that name yesterday," I said to Sam and, after he got over the surprise of me speaking to him, he nodded. "He was taken by demons, right?"

Sam nodded again. "Yeah," he said quietly, and he wouldn't meet anyone's eye.

Ella reached across to the couch and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Ya _have_ to stop beatin' yourself up, Sam," she insisted gently. "What's done is done, 'kay? Ya can make up for it by findin' him." Sam glanced up at Ella gratefully, squeezing her hand as a way of thanks. Dean scoffed in annoyance, and Ella's demeanor changed instantly. "Ya needa back the hell off!" she snapped at him. "I'm sure he feels bad enough already; stop makin' it worse!"

"He _quit_!" Dean shot back. "He turned tail and ran and left Kevin with friggin' _Crowley_! He doesn't get to get off that easy!"

Sam looked like he wanted to defend himself, but Ella did his job for him. "He was _alone_ , Dean! Ya disappeared—you and Cas both—with no tellin' _where_ y'all went! Crowley took Kevin and Meg, and he _killed_ Gari! I woulda run off, too!" _So this Crowley guy is the one who killed me. Guess who's on the top of my hit list._

"He didn't even _try_ to bring me back," Dean argued, " _or_ Gari!"

"He looked for _weeks_ , Dean! With no leads at all! He wasn't sleepin' or eatin'—it wasn't healthy!" Ella was now sitting on the edge of her seat, her face red with anger, and I could tell that she was resisting the urge to start crying—she hated that she cried out of anger; it made her feel weak. "And he and Gari _promised_ each other not to do anythin' stupid!"

I watched the argument curiously. Dean seemed utterly shocked and almost offended that Ella would defend Sam so vehemently; I figured that Ella generally sided with Dean in most disagreements, and this was a strange occurrence for him. Sam seemed to be trying to disappear into the couch—he'd slumped down and was ducking his head so that his hair hid his flushed face. Spending a year with only each other had obviously made Sam and Ella very close, and I could tell that Dean was just now figuring this out and wasn't too happy about it.

"So you just _quit_ ," Dean said flatly, glaring at his brother.

Sam looked at Ella, seeing if she was going to let him speak now; she stayed quiet, shooting daggers at Dean, and Sam finally spoke. "We always said we'd get out," he said, once again avoiding looking at any of us, and I got the sense he'd used this defense before. "I just finally did it. _You_ did it, too, Dean, after I went to Hell."

"I still _looked_ for you!"

Sam frowned. "We've gone back and forth sacrificing ourselves and everything else for each other so many times, and you _know_ how that works out!" Dean rolled his eyes, apparently annoyed that Sam had a point. "Look, Dean…" The younger Winchester fixed his brother with his puppy eyes, silently pleading for forgiveness and understanding. "I'm sorry about Kevin, I am—that's totally on me, and I know it. _But I didn't know where you were._ For all I knew, you could've been in Heaven, and I didn't wanna risk taking that away from you. I'm sorry about Kevin; I'm sorry you were in Purgatory. But I'm not sorry I didn't try harder to bring you back because _I didn't know_." He gazed at Dean expectantly, as if waiting for Dean to tear him down some more, but the older Winchester just huffed and looked away.

Ella glanced between the two of them warily; then she finally said, "So…Kevin? Leads? Yes or no?"

"I found Sam's old phones last night," Dean muttered, staring moodily at the coffee table. "Kevin left a bunch of messages, sayin' he'd escaped Crowley—happened more than six months ago." He briefly glared up at Sam then went back to staring at the table.

" _And_?" Ella prompted.

"And we tracked him down," Sam said, and the guilt was painfully clear in his voice. No matter what Ella said, I knew that Sam would continue beating himself up. "Centreville, Michigan—his high school girlfriend goes to college there."

"When are y'all leavin'?"

Sam looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and I raised my eyebrows at him curiously. "In about an hour," he said reluctantly, and I understood the almost longing glance. I understood it, but I didn't like it.

Dean turned toward me. "Wanna tag along, get back in the game?"

"I can barely spend ten minutes around you without wanting to kill you," I said matter-of-factly, crossing my arms over my chest. "So I'll pass."

"A simple 'no' would've worked," he mumbled.

"Hey, sis, can I talk to ya for a minute?" Ella asked suddenly, and she stood and walked into the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Once I entered the kitchen, she sighed and sank onto a barstool with her head in her hands. "Sorry 'bout the family drama," she said, her voice muffled by her palms. "We're still workin' through some stuff since Dean got back. Didn't have much time to figure it out before ya showed up."

"I can tell," I said with a smirk. "So Sam really quit? Just like you?"

"Yep."

"And you two have been living together for a year?"

"Uh-huh."

I raised my eyebrows. "And you're _sure_ there's nothing going on there?"

Ella let out a disbelieving laugh. "Me and _Sam_? _Blegh_! He's like my _brother_! I love him, yeah, but _definitely_ not like _that_!" She stopped laughing, and her smile faded slowly. "He was just here for me," she said softly, "and I was here for him. We lost y'all, and it was just me and him. We got pretty close." She stared at me for a minute then said, "So what d'ya think of all this? Who's in the right, here?"

I shrugged—I'd been wondering the same thing. "I know why Dean's pissed," I said finally, because I could relate. Greg had made us promise him and each other that we'd never try to bring back whichever one of us died first, but I'd known that I'd break that promise. If it hadn't been for Ella, my soul would've been gone a long time ago, and Greg would still be hunting. But if anything ever happened to Ella, there would be no one there to hold me back—even if there _was_ , I'd probably do something stupid, anyway. I couldn't imagine a life without Ella in it, and I was never going to let such a reality come true. The fact that she hadn't tried to bring me back shouldn't have hurt me, but it did. It wasn't enough to make me as angry as Dean, but it was enough to make me doubt our relationship even more.

"I figured ya would," Ella sighed. "'Specially 2003 you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, feeling offended.

Ella closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's nothin'. Forget it."

I knew that, no matter how much I pried, she wasn't going to talk, so I let it go for the moment. "But I can… _kinda_ see where Sam's coming from," I admitted quietly.

Ella's eyes widened in surprise. " _Really_?"

"We've all wanted to be normal at one point. He just actually did it. You both did."

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

"For what?"

"For tryin' to understand. Y'know, ya should really go with 'em," she said, and I wondered if this was the reason she'd asked me back here in the first place. "More than just the fact that ya'd be huntin' again, it'd give ya a chance to maybe change your mind about 'em."

I couldn't pretend that I wasn't considering it. Sitting around this house for even a day was making me feel antsy, and I thought that killing something scary might make me feel a little better. Still, it would be the first time that I could personally remember that I hadn't been hunting with Ella, and the thought of working with any other hunters— _especially_ if those hunters were the Winchesters—wasn't all too appealing.

"Gari, c'mon," Ella urged. "Ya needa be out doin' somethin', and ya know it." As usual, she seemed to read my mind. "Go with 'em. But, uh, only if you're not gonna spend the whole time tryin' to piss Dean off."

"Oh, believe me, if I wanna piss Dean off, I'll piss Dean off—there'll be no 'trying' involved," I joked.

A smile bloomed on her face. "So's that mean you'll go?"

I huffed. "Yeah, I guess so. But I reserve the right to ditch their asses if I get sick of them."

"Noted! Ya better get packed; y'all are leavin' soon! I'll go tell 'em!"

With that, she ran off, and I let out a long sigh as I walked back to Sam's room. _What the hell did I just agree to?_

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So what made you change your mind?" Dean asked after about three hours of somewhat awkward silence broken only by classic rock playing softly from the radio.

"I wanted to kill something," I stated. "I figured that something should be a monster—Ella would be upset if it were either of you."

Dean didn't comment on that, but he shared a slightly worried look with Sam. "Who said we're huntin' monsters?" he asked instead. "We're just gonna find Kevin."

"Yeah, the kid who got kidnapped by demons, escaped, then disappeared again. There's absolutely _no way_ this is a hunting thing," I said sarcastically.

"Y'know…maybe she has a point," Sam said uneasily.

"I generally do. Hey, what's with that look?" I asked abruptly.

Sam frowned. "What look?"

"The one you just did—you did it when I called you Sammy, too, and when I asked you which pillow was mine. The tortured soul look." I realized that I was being insensitive, but I was too curious to care.

"I-I dunno what look you're talking about," Sam said uncomfortably.

I nodded. "Yeah, you do."

"No, I—"

"So'd you pack a suit or somethin'?" Dean asked me, effectively silencing Sam's protests. "We're goin' as Feds."

"Yep. Heels and all," I replied.

"Got your badge?"

"That's insulting."

"Hey, just checking. I dunno how experienced you are right now—you still think you're twenty years old."

"I don't think twenty-year-olds look this good," I said with a shrug, and Sam chuckled. "No, but, seriously. I know how to do my job, okay? If you want me to be civil and _not_ make this trip totally miserable, you should probably accept that."

"Alright, alright, I get the message," Dean said dismissively.

"So do you two _normally_ fight this badly?" I said conversationally, and both brothers tensed. "I mean, I take it this has been an issue since you got back, Dean—so that's about a week-long argument. What's the record? Two weeks? A month?"

"About half a year," Sam answered finally, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "But that was because I didn't have a soul."

"Yeah, and he was a major dick all the time," Dean added.

I frowned. _Losing your soul must be a major thing, then, if it could make Sam into a dick. The man's an overgrown puppy._ My frown deepened. _Here I go with the liking-Sam thing again. Stop getting attached. Stop sympathizing. Stop_ caring _._

"You okay?" Sam asked, noticing that I'd zoned out. _Those freaking puppy eyes. What the hell is_ with _this guy?_

"I'd be better if I could go five seconds without you asking me that," I snapped, and he nodded once as if expecting a response like that and turned back around.

"So where's _your_ soul?" Dean asked casually, and Sam shot his brother a warning look.

"Excuse me?" I narrowed my eyes, wondering if this was heading where I thought it was.

"I mean, what other reason d'you have for actin' like this?"

 _Don't get angry,_ I told myself. _You were rude first. Do_ not _get angry. Breathe. Calm. Get a hold of yourself._ Just then, there was a loud _bang_ , and Dean swerved over to the side of the road. _Oh, shit. Too late._

"The hell was that?!" Dean exclaimed as he got out of the car. He walked around to the back of the passenger's side and glared town at the busted tire; then he glared at me through the back window. "Did you do this?!" he accused, and I shrugged sheepishly. " _What the hell, Gari_?!"

I wanted to say that it was an accident—because it totally was—but the look of annoyance on Dean's face was just too good. Sam, however, seemed to know that I hadn't done it on purpose, for he looked back over the seat and said, "So in 2003, your powers were still a little hard to control, huh?"

"I'd gotten a lot better," I said. _And_ why _am I telling him this?_ "But after Greg…they got worse. Strong emotions make them…sorta hard to control, and, well…" I shrugged again, staring pointedly at the back of the seat in front of me.

"Look, if you ever need anything…" Sam said quietly. "I-I dunno how much help I'll be, but… I mean, I can try. Just, uh, just le—"

"I'm good, thanks," I interrupted somewhat harshly.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Right."

"Hey!" Dean hammered on Sam's window agitatedly. "You wanna get outta the damn car so I can change the damn tire?!"

Sam and I got out and walked around to watch Dean fight with the car jack. I smothered a laugh as Dean struggled with the tire—Dean didn't notice, but Sam did, and we shared an amused look. _I don't get it. I'm_ mean _to him—and I'm mean_ a lot _. Why doesn't that shake him?_

After a bunch of grunting and cursing, Dean stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I hope you're happy," he grumbled, "'cause this just means you gotta stay in the car with us even longer."

 _Ugh, I didn't think about that…_ I heaved a deep sigh as I slid into the backseat, and I leaned my head against the window, hoping that they could get the signal to not talk to me. Seeing as the rest of our ride consisted with scattered conversation between the brothers, I'd say it worked.

We got changed into our Fed suits in a rest stop right before we reached Centreville; then we headed to the college. Once there, we quickly tracked Kevin's girlfriend Channing down and, upon saying we were looking for clues to Kevin's disappearance, Channing led us inside. Her roommate looked up from her laptop as we entered, and her eyes widened as we showed our badges.

"The last time I saw Kevin was, like, a year ago," Channing told us. She didn't sound too concerned about her ex-boyfriend.

"When he disappeared?" Sam asked for clarification.

"Mhm. He stole his mother's car because he thought he was on a mission from God or something?" She rolled her eyes in disbelief. "It was crazy."

"Shut up!" her roommate exclaimed suddenly. "My friend Adam—who got addicted to Adderall but got a perfs on his SATs, so it was _totally_ worth it—same thing!"

Channing gasped. "Shut _up_!"

"Serious! Mission from God!"

Sam cleared his throat, and the roommate gave him an apologetic look. "Look, Channing," Sam said, "we know Kevin was here."

" _No_ , he wasn't," Channing insisted.

"And we understand if you're trying to protect him," Sam continued. "But nobody can protect Kevin better than we can."

"I _hate_ Kevin," Channing said angrily. "I wouldn't _protect_ him!"

Dean frowned. "I thought you two had a thing."

Channing scoffed. "Yeah, when he was going to _Princeton_."

"Wow." Dean blinked in surprise. "Just like that?"

"Yeah," the roommate said, nodding vehemently.

She and Channing shared an understanding look, and Channing nodded once. "Mhm."

Neither of the boys looked like they knew what to say to that, so I stepped in. "Thanks for your time, ladies," I said, and I handed them one of the business cards Sam had given me. "Give us a call if you hear anything from him." I looked over at Sam and Dean. "Agents." I walked out, and they followed me out of the dorm.

"Is that really a thing?" Dean asked me as we stepped outside.

"What?"

"Y'know, ditching a guy as soon as you find out he's not goin' places."

I snorted. "You're kidding, right?" By the look on his face, he wasn't. "It's _definitely_ a thing."

"Seems a little heartless, don't you think?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Before Elle, how many relationships did you have? And I mean lasting two weeks or longer."

"Uh…one? Maybe less?"

"Of all the girls you hooked up with—and I'm guessing that's a lot—how many d'you think _actually_ thought it was going somewhere?"

"Well, uh…"

"Even when you lied about who you were."

"I don't, uh…all of them?" he guessed.

" _Wrong_." I rolled my eyes. "Pretty much _none_ of them. Girls can tell when guys are going nowhere in life—it's pretty much a sixth sense. All those girls you hooked up with, even if they denied it to themselves—they knew you weren't sticking around, and they knew they shouldn't get attached in the first place because you've got nothing more to offer than a pretty face and a night or two of crazy fun times. Channing's not heartless; she's focused. And that's gonna get her somewhere in life."

Sam laughed at the look on Dean's face; the older Winchester looked like he'd just had some sort of revelation. "Is that right?!" he asked his brother urgently. "Is she right?!"

"Most of the time," Sam chuckled.

I frowned at him. "I think you mean _always_." That sad look crossed his face again, but when he noticed me staring, he quickly forced a neutral expression. _Seriously, though, what the hell?_

Dean was quiet for a moment, apparently thinking over all the girls he'd scammed. Then something else dawned on him, and a teasing grin crossed his face. "D'you really think I'm pretty?" he joked.

"Yeah, you're totally gorgeous," I replied with a shrug. "But I still kinda hate your guts."

That seemed to satisfy him somewhat, for he changed the subject back to the serious matter at hand. "So why would Kevin come sniffing around here if not to see her?"

Sam shrugged. "No idea. Maybe we should split up, ask around, see if anybody's seen him?"

"Yeah, Asian kid, yea high, at a university," Dean muttered. " _That_ should be easy."

"Look, you do that, and I'll see if I can track any computer access Kevin's had lately."

"You can do that?" I asked, impressed against my will.

"We met a hacker last year who showed me the basics."

"Huh. Cool. So does that mean you'll be sitting down somewhere?"

Sam grinned. "Eventually, yeah."

"Wicked. I'm going with Goliath."

I saw Sam's blush out of the corner of my eye as Dean opened his mouth then closed it again, apparently deciding that he didn't want an explanation. "Okay. Meet up at that café near the dorms?" he said instead.

"Sounds good," Sam nodded, and we went our separate ways. "Do you _have_ to call me that?" he said once there was enough distance between us and Dean, and it almost sounded like he was whining.

"What would you prefer?" I teased. "Jolly Green? Big Bird? Treebeard? I'm sure I can think of more." He rolled his eyes, but he laughed anyway. "And, hey, at least I dropped the 'sexy' part!"

He shook his head slowly as his laughter faded. "I can't keep up with you," he said, sounding faintly exasperated. At my confused look, he clarified, "One second, you hate me; the next, you're flirting."

"I am _so_ not flirting," I protested.

"Gari, you're the most obvious flirt I've ever met. When you're flirting, there's basically a big neon sign above your head letting people know."

 _Eh, he has a point._ "Okay, so, maybe I'm flirting _a little_ , but it's only because it's so fun to see you get so flustered! You blush like a Japanese school girl!"

"I do not!" he said stubbornly, but the intense red blush on his cheeks proved my point.

"You look like a tomato right now."

"Shut up."

"That offer to _make me_ is still open." He looked away then. "That's the look!" I announced. "That's it again, and you can't say you're not doing it because you _totally_ are." I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my eyebrows expectantly. "So what is it? Is it _sad_? 'Cause it looks kinda sad."

"They're inside jokes," he said, staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. "You called me Sammy—you're always right—the 'make me' thing."

"And the pillow?"

He blushed even deeper. "It's just another inside joke. It'll make you uncomfortable." Clearly, I wasn't the only one who might be made uncomfortable. While curiosity was burning inside of me, I finally took into account how extremely inconsiderate I was being, and I decided to ease off so we could get to work finding this kid.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"Don't judge me," Dean said as he sat down at our table. "I got bubkis."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but, just then, a waitress came up with our food. "Here you go," she said as she sat the plates down.

Sam smiled at her. "Thank you." As she walked away, he pushed his plate towards Dean.

The older Winchester's eyes lit up at the size of the burger. "Sweet mother of God," he breathed. "It's for _me_? _Seriously_?!" Sam nodded once, and Dean's face broke into a huge grin as he picked up the burger. I shook my head at him as I ran one of my french fries through a huge glob of ketchup. "Hey, aren't vegetarians supposed to be healthy?" Dean asked me.

" _Technically_ , ketchup's a smoothie." I smirked at him, and he chuckled.

"Check this out," Sam said, turning his laptop to show Dean what we'd found. "So, I went through campus security archives around the time Kevin should've been here. Anyone look familiar?" Dean took a bite of his burger just then, and his eyes slid closed as he let out a soft, disturbing moan. I made a face at him as Sam said, "Dude, it's a burger."

"It's a _treasure_ ," Dean corrected as he opened his eyes. He looked at the security footage and frowned as he saw the kid Sam had pointed out to me as Kevin Tran. "Alright, so, what? Kevin comes all the way to campus and doesn't see his girlfriend?"

"I dunno, but we went to the computer lab and found the computer he was on."

"And?"

"And I found the website he was visiting, found his account username, hacked into the website, found when else this username logged in, and then I reverse-tracked the IP address back to the original user, Kevin, who has apparently been using the same wireless router for the past two months."

Dean looked as lost and impressed as I'd felt when Sam had done all of that, and he said, "That is _spectacular_ work. Any chance I can get that in English?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled up a map on his laptop. "Yeah, I think he's in Iowa—at a coffee shop."

He showed the map to Dean, who nodded. "Let's get goin'," the older Winchester said; then he hesitated as he looked at his burger. "…In a few minutes," he amended.

"So why's this kid so important?" I asked as Dean took another bite.

"Well, he was our responsibility," Sam said, and I could tell he was still feeling really guilty about ditching Kevin. "We dragged him into our world, and then he got kidnapped because of us."

"But what's with the high demand? Why would a demon take him?"

"He's the Prophet," Dean said around a mouth full of food.

"He's the what?"

Dean swallowed. "The Prophet—y'know, Keeper of the Word of God, that kinda thing."

I frowned and shook my head. "No, no, no—see, God doesn't exist. That's not a thing. You're _not_ telling me that's a thing." I looked at Sam, hoping for him to say something rational. "…Is it?"

Sam shrugged apologetically. "As far as we know…yeah. It's a thing."

Anger surged up inside me then as I thought back to all the times I'd prayed as a child and gotten no answer. "Then what the _fuck's_ his problem?!" I exclaimed.

"That," Dean said with a nod, "is an excellent question."

I let out a deep breath, trying to regain control of my emotions. "So next you'll be telling me angels are real, huh?"

"They are," Sam said. "Our friend Cas was one."

I looked at Dean. "He's the one who went to Purgatory with you?"

The older Winchester looked down at his now-empty plate. "Yeah," he muttered. "That's the one." A small, awkward silence passed where I actually felt kind of bad for bringing up a sore subject, but Dean soon got over it. "So are you done?" he asked me, eyeing the few french fries on my plate. "'Cause I'm ready to hit the road."

I grabbed the remaining french fries and stuffed them in my mouth. "Mhm," I nodded, unable to speak, and Sam chuckled as we got up from the table and left the college campus.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

We got out of the car in front of an old church in Fairfield, Iowa. It didn't look very safe, and Dean looked up at it with displeasure. "A church?" he said skeptically, cocking an eyebrow at his brother. "You sure this is right?"

Sam nodded. "Barista at the coffee shop swears he's seen Kevin ducking in here for the past few months." He tried the front door, but it was locked. "Kevin!" he called. "It's Sam and Dean Winchester! Open up!"

Sam shook his head at Dean, and Dean pulled out his lock-picking kit. "Wait!" I said before he could start. "Lemme try." Dean shrugged and stepped back, and I held out my hand. With a sound like a gunshot, the door flew in and slammed against the wall. I grimaced apologetically. "That…wasn't supposed to happen like that," I said embarrassedly, and Dean rolled his eyes and stepped inside the church.

As soon as we'd entered, we were assaulted by a kid holding a large water gun that smelled like it was full of cleaning products. _That stops Leviathans, right? How lame._ "Stop, stop!" Dean yelped, holding his hands up in defense. "Not Leviathans! It's us!"

Kevin lowered the water gun, and I noticed he was staring right at me with an expression of awe on his face. "G-Gari?!" he said shakily. "Y-you're _alive_?!" He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me before I had the chance to react, and I stiffened at the unwanted contact. I didn't say anything—I wanted to let this kid have time to rejoice over the fact that I was alive, but I also very much wanted him to stop touching me.

"Uh...Kevin?" Sam said, noticing the look on my face. "You mind letting her go?"

Kevin did as he said, but looked between Sam and me confusedly. "What the hell happened to you guys?"

Dean answered for all of us. "Cliff Notes? I went to Purgatory, Sam hit a dog, and Gari has amnesia."

"For real?" Kevin glanced at me, his face flushing slightly at this new information. "I-I'm sorry," he said, and I nodded once in acceptance of his apology. "Uh, you want some towels?"

Dean nodded, and we followed Kevin toward the front of the church. He dug around in a bag sitting on the front pew, and he tossed Dean a few towels to pass out to us. As we dried off, I looked around the room at all of the different warding symbols on the walls—some I recognized, and some I didn't. Dean seemed to be doing the same thing, for he asked, "Who taught you all this?"

"I guess…God," Kevin said with a shrug.

Sam raised his eyebrows. " _God_ taught you how to trap demons?"

"Technically, yeah."

"Wait, wait, hold on. Crowley kidnapped you. I saw that. But then you left a message saying you escaped. _How_?"

"Well… First, he took me to a warehouse. There was a tablet there, like the last one." _What kind of tablet is he talking about?_

"Wait, there's _another_ tablet?" Dean asked. "So another Word of God?" _Are you fucking kidding me? The 'Word of God?' For fuck's sake._

Kevin nodded. "Yes."

"How many Words of God are there?"

"I just became a Prophet, like, a year ago…" Kevin said slowly.

"Well, did this tablet have a name?" Sam asked.

"'Demons.'"

"What about demons?" All three of them looked at me as though surprised I'd spoken.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Kevin's mouth. "As far as I could tell… _everything_." Sam and Dean looked at each other, noticing Kevin's excitement but not yet understanding. "The first thing I found was about Hell Gates," the Prophet said.

"What about Hell Gates?" Sam questioned.

"There's one in Wisconsin. The tablet told me how to open it. There were ingredients for a spell."

"You showed the _King of Hell_ how to open a Hell Gate?!" Dean exclaimed. "So that all the demons could come out all at the same time?!"

" _What_?" Kevin gave Dean an insulted look. " _No_! I _told_ Crowley I was opening a Hell Gate, but I was reading from another chapter—'How to Destroy Demons.'"

Dean chuckled. "You son of a bitch."

Sam frowned. "Wait, Kevin, where's the tablet now?"

"Safe," the kid replied, getting a guarded look on his face.

"Safe _where_?"

"Hey, as long as it's safe, okay?" Dean said. "Were you able to read anything else off the tablet before you stashed it?"

"Only the stuff about closing the Gates of Hell forever," Kevin said nonchalantly.

Dean eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Come again?"

"Banish all demons off the face of the earth, lock them away forever." A full-blown grin crossed the Prophet's face. "That could be important, right?"

Sam and Dean shared a disbelieving look, and Dean nodded slowly at Kevin. "Closing the Gates of Hell _forever_? Yeah—yeah, that could be important."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So…you lost your memory?" a tentative voice asked, and I turned to see Kevin standing awkwardly by the door. "Sorry, I, uh, I just have to get my stuff. We're leaving soon."

"It's fine," I said. I'd just come into the little area off the main room of the church to clear my head. I was getting restless again—I didn't like being around these people I didn't know. They talked to me so easily, like I was one of them, and I simultaneously loved and hated the inclusion. It felt strange, too strange for me to be completely okay with it. And then there was Kevin, another person who'd known me before, another person whom I'd upset by not remembering. Plus, all the stuff with closing the Gates of Hell and getting rid of all demons was a little too much to take in at the moment. It was all so overwhelming. Right then, all I wanted was to be back with Ella.

"So I guess that means you don't remember Sucrocorp," Kevin said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I shook my head slowly. "I…have no idea what that is."

"It was where you died."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't see it, but Crowley told me about it when he took me." Kevin stared at the ground. "He said you died alone."

"Sam was there," I said, "or, at least, he said he was. He said he held me."

Kevin's eyes widened, full of sorrow and pity. "That sounds horrible."

I nodded. "Yeah, it does."

Kevin came and sat down beside me, and he was just a little too close for comfort. I shifted away slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice. "So you dunno where you went?" he asked. "Y'know, when you died?"

"Nope."

"Any guesses?"

"Hell, probably."

"Why's that?"

"Life of a hunter—plus my tragic back-story."

"Huh?"

I forced a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He shook his head. "Well, either way, even though you don't remember much…I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks, kid." I stood up then, wanting to put space between us. "You ready to go?" He nodded and followed me back into the main room. "Let's blow this popsicle stand," I announced, and Sam and Dean broke off their conversation at my words.

Suddenly, the floor started to shake, and I pushed Kevin backwards as some of the floorboards cracked in half. "We got company!" Dean warned, and I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary comment. He reached into a bag, pulled out a knife, and handed it to Sam. Then he pulled out another weapon, some sort of blade that looked like it had come straight from Saruman's Uruk-hai army.

"What the hell is _that_?" Sam asked.

Dean smirked. "It's Purgatory."

Just then, the doors flew open, and three demons walked in. "Dean Winchester," one of them said with a menacing grin. "Back from Purgatory."

"Spanky the demon!" Dean grinned. Sam slid in front of Kevin and me, and I couldn't tell which one of us he was trying to protect. _It better be the kid,_ I thought agitatedly. _Because I do_ not _need his protection._ "Yeah, I heard about you," Dean continued. "You're the one who uses too much teeth, right?"

At that, the demons rushed at us—one at Dean, one at Sam, and one at Kevin and me. The one who reached us stopped as he saw me. " _You_!" he hissed, something like fear on his face. "You're supposed to be _dead_!"

"That's the general consensus," I growled, dropping into a fight stance. I had to admit, I enjoyed that reaction. "Now, d'you wanna fight, or are you gonna run back to your daddy?" The demon lunged at me, and I threw my hand out, sending him flying into the wall. I advanced on him slowly, and I clenched my fist to get a better grip on my powers. The demon started coughing, and black smoke poured out of his mouth, burning into nothing as it touched the ground. The body the demon had inhabited slumped over, and I went with it, crashing painfully to my knees. _Ugh, I really gotta work on that._ I wiped my face, and blood came away on my hand. _Nosebleed. Great._

"Gari!" Kevin yelped, coming over and grabbing my arm. "You okay? What the hell _was_ that?"

"I-Is he alive?" I asked weakly, nodding at the vessel.

Kevin went over to check his pulse. "Yeah, he is. Did you just exorcise him with your _mind_?!"

"More or less." I started to climb back to my feet, and I felt strong arms lift me up. I stared up at Sam, hoping I looked at least somewhat grateful.

"Can you stand on your own?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I got it." I took a step forward once he pulled away and almost fell again. "On second thought," I said hoarsely, "maybe not." He nodded and slipped an arm around my waist, and I tried my best not to flinch away. _This is better than falling,_ I reminded myself. _Just chill the fuck out._

"Hello, boys," a deep, raspy voice drawled, and I felt Sam freeze beside me. Channing and an unfamiliar man were standing in the doorway. At the sight of the man, Sam let out something that sounded almost like a snarl and pushed me behind him. I suddenly realized that this had to be Crowley—why else would Sam be freaking out so badly? "Dean," said the demon. "You're looking…well, let's just say Purgatory didn't do you any favors. Where's your angel?"

"Ask your mother!" Dean spat.

"There's that grade-school zip," Crowley said approvingly. "Missed it. Really did." He turned to Sam then, who stepped directly in front of me. I clung to the back of his jacket for support, still feeling dizzy. "Moose. Still with the pork chops. I admire that." _Moose?_ That's _a new one._ "And who's that hiding behind you? Got a new girlfriend since I killed the last one?"

Sam made that noise again, and I decided then that I wasn't going to take this. "Not exactly," I said, stepping out from behind Sam but still keeping a hold on him.

The demon's eyes widened with surprise, but he quickly masked it. "Garideth," he grinned. "Back from the dead. I'm a little curious as to _how_ —I know neither of these morons sold their souls for you. Personally, I'd be a little offended, if I were you. You must not mean as much to them as you thought."

I didn't know someone could get as tense as Sam was in that moment, and I shot him a look, warning him not to do anything stupid. I decided to not reveal the whole amnesia thing to the demon who killed me. And, honestly, it wasn't that hard to summon up a little bit of rage for him. "Looks like I've got someone else watching out for me, then, doesn't it?" I shot back. "Some higher power out there—higher than _you_."

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "Yes, well, if you want something done right, do it yourself. I'll have to personally make sure it sticks next time around."

"Let Channing go!" Thankfully, Kevin spoke up at that moment, distracting Sam from his rage. I knew I couldn't have held him back if he'd tried to go after Crowley, and I didn't want him to get himself killed. _Wait, what?_ I was surprised at my own thoughts. _Since when do I care?_ _I don't care. I don't. Let him go all kamikaze. Whatever._ Still, I couldn't make myself release my hold on Sam, and he put his arm around my waist once more, holding me almost _too_ tightly.

"That's not Channing, Kevin," Dean said. "Not anymore."

"What an _awful_ thing to say to the boy!" Crowley admonished. "Of course it's Channing, Kev. Last time we danced, you stole my tablet and killed my men. Tell you what: come with me now—bygones. And I'll let the girl go back to…What's-the-Point U."

"He's lying," Dean insisted. "You won't get Channing back. She's probably dead already."

Crowley sighed. "Will you _please_ stop saying that?" He turned to the demon in Channing and snapped his fingers. "Let the girl speak."

The expression on Channing's face changed from boredom to fear, and she looked around frantically until her eyes landed on Kevin. " _Kevin?!_ " she cried, a disbelieving smile starting to form on her face.

"Channing?" Kevin said, his voice full of relief.

"W-what's going on?!"

"There's a demon in you, and you're going to your safety school!" Kevin rushed out.

Channing's eyes widened. " _What_?!"

"But it's gonna be okay!" he assured her.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "I-I just—I can't."

"No, no, _wait_!" Kevin yelled, but Crowley snapped his fingers, and Channing's eyes turned black. The Prophet's shoulders sagged with defeat. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll do it."

"Kevin…" Sam said warningly.

"Myself for the girl," Kevin continued, ignoring Sam. "But this ends, alright? No fighting, no nothing. It _ends_."

"Can't let you do that, buddy," Dean said sternly.

Kevin let out a mirthless laugh. "Or what? You'll kill me?" A pang went through my heart at the hopelessness in his voice as he turned back to Crowley. "I'll grab my stuff." He walked out of the room, leaving us all glaring at each other.

"Chin up, gentlemen," Crowley said with a smirk. "I'm a professional."

"This ain't over by a long shot, Crowley!" Dean snapped.

Crowley shook his head in exasperation. "Really, Dean, who writes your stuff? A _marshmallow_? Come on, Kevin!" he called. "Chop, chop!" There was a long pause. "…Kevin?" He took a step forward, and Dean raised the knife in his hands. Crowley snapped his fingers and the knife glowed red hot, causing Dean to release it with a gasp of pain. "Really, boys?" he said, sounding disappointed. He continued calling Kevin's name as he walked back through the church, the demon possessing Channing following behind him.

A minute after they'd left the room, we heard Kevin shout, "Guys, _run_!" Sam kept a grip on my arm as we sprinted out of the church, Kevin close behind, and we piled into the Impala. Right as we started to drive away, Crowley and Channing stepped onto the church's porch. Crowley leaned over and said something to her; then demon smoke flew out of her mouth and up into the sky. Channing stared at Crowley in absolute terror for only a second before Crowley twisted his hand and her neck snapped. She collapsed to the ground, dead, as we left the church behind, and Kevin turned around in his seat, still staring out the back window in horror as though unable to tear his eyes away. "He killed her," he said, his voice hollow. "She's dead."

"Kevin, look—" Dean started, but the Prophet interrupted him.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said shortly. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the window, and he didn't speak again.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Dean's cell phone rang as we pulled up to a gas station. I still couldn't get used to the advanced technology. I was used to cheap flip phones with T9Word, not touch screens and autocorrect. "Hello?" Dean listened for a moment then said, "Wrong number." He hung up and shook his head. "Automated jackass. Alright, anybody want anything?"

"I'm good," Sam said.

"Something with sugar or caffeine," I said, "preferably both." I was still feeling drained after my little stunt back at the church, and I needed something to spike my energy levels again.

Dean nodded then looked expectantly at Kevin. The kid didn't respond, and Dean shared a worried look with Sam. "Kevin?" Sam said. "How're you holding up?"

" _Awesome_ ," Kevin said bitterly. "The King of Hell just snapped my girlfriend's neck. How about you?"

"Alright, listen to me," Dean said. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend, okay? I am. But the sooner you get this, the better: you're in it now, whether you like it or not. That means you do what you gotta do."

Dean walked toward the store then, and Kevin glared after him. " _Great_ pep talk," he muttered. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn't know how. Being reassuring wasn't really my thing.

Sam looked back at Kevin sympathetically for a moment before turning to me. "You okay?" he asked. "Back at the church, that seemed to take a lot outta you."

"I haven't really done it enough to be totally comfortable with it yet," I said. "But I'm fine. Thanks for asking." He nodded, seeming surprised that I'd answered so nicely, and I didn't know why that bothered me. "But what about you? You almost went berserk in there. It was scary…and kinda hot."

I waited for the blush on his cheeks, but it never came. Instead, he clenched his jaw and let out a short huff. "I'm fine," he said tersely.

"D'you really expect _anyone_ to believe that?"

"I'm gonna kill him," he promised fiercely. "Next time we see him, I'm gonna kill him."

I smirked. "I'll hold him, and you punch. Or stab, or whatever suits your fancy."

"I want in," Kevin said, startling us both. "If you're killing him, I want in."

Sam and I shared a concerned look. "Sure, kid," I said, not knowing why the ferocity and hatred in his voice upset me so much. "You got it."


	4. Break a Promise to Your Mother

"So what happened?" Ella asked curiously. "How'd the hunt go?"

I held the phone in between my shoulder and ear as I pulled on my shoes. "We found Kevin in Iowa; I met Crowley; and he killed Kevin's girlfriend."

"Oh, my God!" she gasped. "That's awful!"

I ignored that statement, deciding it was too obvious to comment on. "Also, Sam's _really_ hot when he's mad, and it's super annoying," I said offhandedly.

She giggled. "Of _course_ ya'd think that."

"What, that he's hot or that it's annoying?"

"Both."

"Eh, fair point."

"So how're things goin' with them? Ya still holdin' grudges?" I could tell she was trying to keep a conversational tone instead of being super serious, but it didn't really work out that well.

I didn't know what to say. On the one hand, I was getting over the fact that they were Winchesters. They were good hunters, and, as far as I could tell, they were decent people. On the other hand, I was always slow to trust anyone. I didn't like getting attached to people—the last time I'd done that, one of them ended up dead, and I was still grieving. Ella was the only person I wanted to be close to, and that was because it was already too late for me to turn back. I cared about _her_ , and that was enough for me. Opening up to two new people who I viewed as a threat to mine and Ella's relationship wasn't going to be easy, and I wasn't sure that I actually wanted it to happen.

"They're not their father," I said finally, figuring that would satisfy her for the time being.

"I knew ya'd come around! So where to next?"

"We're gonna go get the demon tablet—"

"Wait, so now there's a _demon_ tablet?"

"Apparently. Also apparently, there's a spell on there that can close the Gates of Hell forever, so that's something."

"Holy crap!"

"My thoughts exactly."

"Where's the tablet?"

"Kevin hid it somewhere. He hasn't told us yet." I paused for a minute, thinking about Kevin's fury. He didn't strike me as the kind of person to get angry easily or as the kind of person who would be okay with hurting so much as a fly. But he had been completely serious when he'd said he wanted in on killing Crowley, and some part of me really hoped he never got the chance to. Even after what he'd been through the past year, he still seemed so innocent and young, and I didn't want him to lose that. _Not like I did. He should be able to act like a teenager for a couple more years at least. He shouldn't have to deal with this._

"Gari?" Ella said worriedly. "Ya there?"

I shook my head to clear it. "Yeah, I'm here. Just thinking. Sorry, Elle."

Just then, Sam poked his head into my hotel room. "You ready to go?" he asked, and I nodded.

He waited by the door as Ella said, "Do I needa let ya go?"

"Yeah, we're about to head out," I replied. "I'll let you know how everything goes, okay?"

"'Kay! Say hi to everyone for me!"

"Will do. Later, Elle."

I hung up and slung my bag over my shoulder. "How's she doing?" Sam asked me as we left the room.

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess. She sounded kinda sad."

He nodded. "Probably because we're all hunting again. She always got really lonely when the three of us would go off together."

"Yeah, and now that she's used to you being around all the time, it's probably worse."

"Yeah…" He frowned. "I hate that we have to leave her."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So you really care about her, huh?"

"We got really close with you and Dean gone," he said, giving the same reason that Ella had given me. "She's like a sister to me."

"I'm, uh…I'm glad you were there with her," I said quietly, watching my feet as we walked. "I'm glad she didn't have to go through it alone."

"She helped me just as much as I helped her—maybe more." I looked back up at him when he paused, and when he continued, I could tell he was uncomfortable. "You heard what she said—how desperate I got. If it hadn't been for Elle, who knows what would've happened to me?"

"I dunno; you don't seem like the kinda guy who'd do something super crazy."

He let out a mirthless laugh. "I keep forgetting you don't know me very well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll tell you about it one day."

"I'll hold you to that, Winchester."

"I'm counting on it, Vulcan." He grinned at me, and I was unable to stop myself from beaming back at him. Just because I was by no means okay with the idea of getting attached to Sam didn't mean that I didn't occasionally enjoy being around him, and I couldn't help but like the look he got on his face when we were getting along. _But that doesn't mean anything. He's cute; that's it. No attachments, just physical attraction. I can deal with that._ And I was going to keep repeating that to myself until I made it true.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Dean was still grumbling to himself about our decision to head to Neighbor, Michigan and check on Kevin's mom before finding the tablet. I couldn't blame the kid for being worried—after what happened to his girlfriend, there was no telling what Crowley might've had in store for his mother. When we got to his house, Dean had spotted two demons keeping tabs on Mrs. Tran, and I knew then that we were going to have to come to her rescue.

"You guys are really okay with this?" I asked Sam quietly after he'd killed the second demon— _and_ its vessel. That knife they had was really handy, but I couldn't help but think of the poor, helpless soul inside that died every time a demon did. "Killing innocent people? There's gotta be another way, right?"

Sam looked surprised, and then he looked guilty. "The knife kills demons; it doesn't just exorcise them. If there was an exorcism that killed them, that's what we'd do. But this is quick." He got a funny look on his face as he said, "Besides, we can't _all_ kill demons with our minds."

I could see his point, of course, but it didn't mean I really liked it. I wasn't going to lie and say I hadn't killed a few people—it had taken me a while to work out the kinks of my powers, and not all of the vessels had survived at first. But, even though it still made me weak, it was better than what _they_ did—at least to me.

Sam, Dean, and I stayed out of sight on either side of the door as Kevin knocked eagerly. The door opened, revealing Mrs. Tran with a look of utmost joy and relief on her face. "Hi, Mom," Kevin said warmly.

Tears flooded Mrs. Tran's eyes. "Oh, Kevin!" She rushed forward to hug him, but the boys stepped in at that moment and splashed her in the face with holy water. She spluttered confusedly, blinking water out of her eyes. "What—"

"She's clean," Dean said, and Kevin grinned and hugged his mom, who cried into his shoulder.

Suddenly, Sam frowned. "You smell that?" he asked, and, as he said it, the stench of sulfur hit my nose. We entered the house to find a woman in the dining room with black smoke pouring out of her mouth, the demon inside her trying to make its escape. Sam's eyes widened and he jumped into action. " _Et secta diabolica omnis congregatio, omnis legio, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis immundus spiritus, exorcizamus te_!" The demon smoke flew back into the woman, and Dean lunged at her and stabbed her with the knife. Both Mrs. Tran and the woman let out screams as the demon's vessel flickered with orange light before falling to the ground.

"Eunice!" Mrs. Tran shrieked.

Dean shook his head. "That's not Eunice."

I looked up at Sam, completely in awe. "How the hell'd you say it backwards so quickly?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "I dunno; I just…did it."

"You're a major fucking dork."

"Yeah, kinda."

"That was seriously super cool, though."

"Heh. Thanks."

"Mom, hey," Kevin said, holding his mom by the shoulders and staring into her eyes. She was still breathing heavily and looking panicked, but the sight of her son seemed to calm her down. "Let's go sit down, okay? We've got a lot to talk about." He ushered her into the living room and onto the couch, and he sat down beside her. "So, first of all," he said, getting right down to business, "because this is kinda the most important part: I'm a Prophet of the Lord."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're a _what_?"

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true," Kevin said earnestly. "And I was kidnapped because I'm the only one that can read this tablet thing—Sam, Dean, and Gari found one of the tablets last year, and that activated me as a Prophet. That's why I ran away in the first place: so I could find the tablet and keep it safe." _Yet another adventure I know nothing about._

I could see the skepticism on Mrs. Tran's face, and it seemed that Sam could, too, for he spoke to her in calm, level tones. "Mrs. Tran," he said, "your friend was possessed by a demon."

Mrs. Tran frowned in confusion, and Kevin said, "Have you ever seen _The Exorcist_?"

She rolled her eyes. "Is _that_ what you've been doing all year—watching television?" Kevin sighed, and she looked back toward the dining room. "Did you _really_ have to kill her?"

Sam glanced at me, looking uncomfortable, as Dean said, "The demon would've warned Crowley where Kevin was if we didn't."

Mrs. Tran looked back at Kevin, anger crossing her face as she guessed who Crowley was. "And _Crowley_ is the one who kidnapped you?" she said darkly.

Kevin nodded. "Yeah. He needs me to translate his stupid tablet so he can take over the universe or something."

"Which is why we need to get it," Dean said, "so that we can slam the Gates of Hell forever with Crowley inside."

"So that things like _that_ don't ever happen again," Sam added, gesturing toward the dining room.

Mrs. Tran looked around at us for a minute, and I could see acceptance growing in her eyes as she decided to believe us. She looked back at Kevin and said, "Prophet of the Lord, huh?" She smirked. "It _does_ have a nice ring to it." She stood up then. "I'll get packed."

Dean nodded. "We're gonna need a safe house since Crowley's been to Rufus's cabin, so—"

"Safe house? I thought we were going to get the tablet."

"Uh, _we_ are," Dean corrected. " _You're_ takin' a trip to a demon-free zone."

"And risk letting Kevin fall into the hands of this Crowley again?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't think so!"

"Mrs. Tran," Sam said, "all due respect, Dean's right. Crowley—he's not just a killer. He trades in torment. And if he can find a way to separate your soul from you, he'll take that soul to Hell and—and roast it till there's nothing left but black smoke. Look, it's best if you let us handle this."

She nodded slowly, and I was surprised that she looked like she was going to give in. She seemed tougher than that. "I understand," she said; then she glared at Sam defiantly. "But it's not _my_ soul I'm worried about; it's my son's." _Atta girl._

Dean looked torn between admiration and exasperation. "Kevin, you wanna back us up here?" he begged the Prophet. "Came all the way down here to pull her outta the fire, and now she wants to jump right back in."

Kevin gave his mom a fond smile. "Like I can tell her what to do?"

Mrs. Tran stared Dean down with a steely, determined look on her face, and Dean gave a disbelieving chuckle and shrugged in defeat. "Alright. Comin' with us has conditions—uh, hex bags to stay off the bad guys' radar, and, uh, you're gonna have to get inked up."

Kevin blinked rapidly in shock. "Uh, do _what_ , now?!" he asked fearfully.

Sam nodded at him, pulling the top of his shirt open to show an anti-possession tattoo inked onto his chest. I pointedly turned my gaze away, liking the idea of seeing Sam shirtless just a little too much. "Yeah, uh, you, too, shortstop," he said to Kevin. "Keeps the demons out." Sam's eyes met mine as he buttoned his shirt back up, and the smallest smirk was on his face. I rolled my eyes, knowing by his expression that my attempts to hide my blush hadn't worked.

Mrs. Tran raised her eyebrows, looking unfazed. "Fine," she said.

Dean raised his eyebrows skeptically. " _Really_?"

She let out a short bark of laughter. "What, like it's my first tattoo?" She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Dean looking like he'd just found his role model and Kevin with the horrified expression of a little kid who'd just been told Santa Claus wasn't real.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

After Kevin and his mom got their tattoos, we headed to a bus station in Laramie, Wyoming. Kevin had hidden a bag containing the tablet in one of the lockers there, but, when we opened the locker, the tablet was gone and the bag it was in had been replaced by a diaper bag. We questioned one of the station guards, who told us that a former employee named Clem Smedley had just been arrested for stealing from the lockers and was now waiting for arraignment. With this information, the Winchesters and I headed down to the Laramie police station in our Fed suits to interrogate Clem.

My first impression of Clem Smedley was that he didn't seem too bothered that he'd gotten caught. When Sam asked him for details about how he'd gotten arrested, he just smiled and shook his head. "Should have known they'd plant a LoJack in one of them bags. Smart guy, that Jerry. He'll be a fine replacement for me."

Sam nodded. "Right, well, in one of those lockers, there was a tablet. D'you know where it is?"

Clem raised his eyebrows. "Can I even _acknowledge_ that without my lawyer here?" _Oh, boy. He wants something from us._

Sam seemed to get that, too, for he said, "Uh, look, I'm sure we can work out a little, uh, something-something with the locals if you just cooperate." I thought it was kind of funny, seeing as we really could do absolutely nothing for Clem, regardless of whether he helped us out or not.

I glanced up at Dean, who was staring at Clem with a strange, unfocused look in his eye. Clem didn't notice, and he leaned onto the table toward Sam and said, "What kinda something-something?"

"Leniency?" Sam suggested. "We can cut down your time."

Clem shook his head. "Not good enough."

I narrowed my eyes. "You seem to have something in mind already," I said suspiciously.

Clem grinned at me and gave a small nod. "So, here's what I'm thinkin': full immunity from all charges—past, present, and future."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, acting very hesitant very well. He opened his mouth to pretend to give in to Clem's demands when, suddenly, Dean came around the table, wrapped his tie around Clem's neck, and slammed Clem against the wall. I jerked back in surprise, almost toppling out of my chair, and Sam huffed in exasperation. "Hey!" He banged his hand on the table, trying to get Dean's attention. "Dean! C'mon!"

Dean ignored him, pulling the tie upwards like a noose and causing Clem to emit a rough choking sound. "You feel that?" Dean said, his empty expression contrasting greatly with his low, threatening voice and the fact that his face was mere inches away from Clem's.

"L-look," Clem said hoarsely, "just g-get me outta here and I-I'll show you w-where to go!"

Dean jerked up on his tie again, and Clem gasped with pain and fear. "How about you just _tell_ me?" Dean proposed, a smirk twitching up at the corner of his mouth.

Sam finally got to his feet to stop his brother before it got too far. "Dean!" he tried again, but the older Winchester still ignored him.

"Pawn shop, First and Main!" Clem practically wailed, and Dean nodded satisfactorily as he loosened his hold on the tie and removed it from Clem's neck.

"Dean?" Sam said worriedly. Dean finally looked at him as Clem pressed himself even further back against the wall. Sam jerked his head toward the door. "C'mon." Dean nodded once and led the way out of the room.

"What was _that_?" I asked Sam as we left the police station, making sure to keep my voice low enough so that Dean wouldn't hear.

"Purgatory," Sam answered flatly, looking extremely tense.

"So he hasn't done something like that before?"

"No."

The worry on his face upset me for some reason, and I felt the urge to reassure him. "Hey, look on the bright side: we got the info we wanted, and he stopped himself before he let anything happen." He gave a noncommittal grunt, and I rolled my eyes. " _And_ you didn't have to release a hardened criminal back into the streets," I added teasingly. I could see that he was fighting a grin, and, when I smiled at him, he gave up the fight.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "I see your point. Just…what if he can't stop himself next time?"

I grimaced. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it?" I said lamely, and he chuckled darkly.

"Yeah 'cause that always works."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Mrs. Tran was officially my favorite person.

We'd gone to the pawn shop that Clem had told us about and were met by a very rude and unhelpful man. Dean had threatened him, and, when that didn't work, Mrs. Tran had stepped in and basically blackmailed him into telling us what we wanted to know. She'd noticed the tags on his car—a cherry red Ferrari—were expired and guessed that he'd acquired it an illegal trade. She'd then said that her brother worked for the Wyoming tax assessor's office and could cause the guy to pay about $10,000. After that, the man gave us the address of the person who'd bought the tablet, and Dean drove us all the way there with a huge grin on his face.

We reached the address, which was a small motel on the outskirts of town, and Sam knocked on the door of Room 126. "Sure this is the right place?" he asked Dean.

Dean shrugged. "It's what the pawn slip says."

Just then, someone behind us said, "Kevin?" We all spun around to see a man dressed in a fancy grey suit—top hat, coattails, and cane included.

Dean glared at the man suspiciously. "Who wants to know?"

"Oh, _relax_ , Dean," the man said, and Dean's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to steal your Prophet." He looked at Mrs. Tran and beamed as he took her hand. "And you must be Kevin's mother. I'm Beau, and it is my absolute pleasure." He kissed her hand and she smiled unsurely back at him. "And Kevin! Imagine my luck: here I was, working so hard looking for you that I never stopped to think _you_ might be looking for _me_! I have something for you."

"What is it?" Kevin asked, curiosity and distrust mixing in his voice.

"An invitation, my dear man," Beau said as he pulled a small envelope out of his coat, "to a very exclusive auction."

Dean frowned. "Lemme guess—where you'll be selling the tablet."

"Well, when we acquire an item as hot as the Word of God, it's smart to unload it as fast as possible. And we are in _such_ desperate need of a headliner for tonight's gala."

"Well, I hope you have four extra tickets to your little eBay party 'cause the Prophet's with us."

"Oh, if you're worried about the safety of the Prophet, rest assured that we have a strict 'no casting, no cursing, no…supernaturally flicking you against the wall just for the fun of it' policy," Beau said amusedly.

"Is that right?" Sam said skeptically. "How'd you manage that?"

"Well, I _am_ the right hand of a god, after all," Beau said, puffing out his chest importantly. "Plutus, specifically."

"Is that even a planet anymore?" Dean joked, and I rolled my eyes.

Beau looked offended. "It's the god of greed," he said condescendingly. "And my liege has warded these premises against Hell, Heaven, and beyond—quite necessary with some of the players we see. And, incidentally, quite possibly the safest place your precious Prophet could be." He looked around and saw the suspicion and annoyance on our faces, and he sighed. "Mmm, well, since time is of the essence, perhaps I'll just go ahead and add a plus-four to the Prophet's invitation. Copacetic?" With that, he tossed the envelope in the air and disappeared.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Peanut!" Dean snapped; then he turned to us. "Alright, what do we have to bid?" Sam scoffed and shook his head. "What? We can't just show up there empty-handed!"

"Dean, all we have to our names is a few hacked gold cards," Sam said.

"Alright, well, then, we're gonna have to get creative."

Sam narrowed his eyes in thought, and he just so happened to be looking at the Impala. His eyes widened slightly, and Dean followed his gaze. "Well…"

"No!" Dean exclaimed angrily. "Nuh-uh! Say it, and I will kill you, your children, _and_ your grandchildren!"

I smothered a laugh as Sam held his hands up apologetically. "Okay, okay! Uh…Wait a second. They—these auctions—they display the items to the bidders beforehand, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"You're thinking Kevin can just look at the tablet then," I guessed, and Sam nodded.

"We just gotta get him close enough to memorize the spell."

Dean shrugged, apparently finding no fault with the plan. "What d'you think, brainiac?" he asked Kevin. "Think you can swing it?"

Mrs. Tran answered for him. "Of _course_ he can swing it, if the bumper stickers on my Previa mean anything."

As we walked back to the car, Dean looked at it lovingly and said, "He didn't mean it, baby." I let out a snort as I slid into the backseat beside Mrs. Tran, and Dean shot me a glare. "You didn't hear anything," he said.

"Oh, no, not a thing," I promised with a smirk, and Dean nodded once and started the car.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

The auction was a little bit frightening. Sure, the artifacts were really cool, but I knew that, out of all the people there, we were probably the only ones that were actually _people_. Hell, we were at an auction in a creepy warehouse hosted by a _god_ —any of the attendees could more than likely squash us like bugs. And the fact that they'd taken the weapons Dean had tried so foolishly to smuggle in just made me even _more_ nervous.

 _If all else fails, I still have my powers,_ I thought, trying to reassure myself. _Yeah, if I can actually make them_ work _for me. Everything feels so_ off _since I got back. I guess I just need time to readjust to—to being alive._ I let out a short breath, and Sam raised his eyebrows at me questioningly. I shook my head at him, and he gave me a small smile then went back to staring curiously at the ancient manuscript in the glass case in front of him.

I moved away, scanning the room for the tablet— _though it would help if I knew what it looks like_ —when my eyes landed on a large hammer. "No _way_ ," I breathed as I moved toward it. The handle was wrapped in old leather, and the head was covered with ancient runes and symbols. "It _can't_ be."

"What is it?" I flinched as Sam appeared beside me. He gave me an amused look. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the amusement was still on his face. "I know that look," he said. "You're about to geek out on me, aren't you?"

"That's fucking _Mjolnir_!" I whispered excitedly. He gave me a blank look, and I rolled my eyes. "Oh, _c'mon_ , aren't you supposed to be the smart brother?"

"I _am_ the smart brother!" he said, sounding offended.

"So, what, Norse mythology's just not important enough for you?"

Realization suddenly dawned in Sam's eyes. "No _way_ ," he said, copying my words from earlier. "You really think that's—"

"It _could_ be, right?" I practically begged, hoping beyond hope that I was staring at the _actual_ Mjolnir.

"Oh, I assure you, it _is_ ," a smug voice said, and I tore my eyes away from the hammer to see Beau in all his fancy-suited glory standing on the other side of the glass case. "You could bid, you know," he said to me, and his eyes roved over me with a lecherous yet contempt-filled gaze. "I'm sure you have _something_ to offer."

I heard Sam huff angrily, and I smirked at Beau. "Think I'll pass. I'm powerful enough without having to carry around a five billion pound hammer."

Beau's stare became calculating, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm beginning to think that maybe you _are_."

 _Uh-oh. I do_ not _like the way that sounds._ I could tell Sam didn't, either, and I grabbed his wrist and squeezed once in warning as he started to move forward. "Well, I guess it's about time _someone_ saw what a treasure I am," I replied, keeping my tone light and joking. I saw Dean out of the corner of my eye, and he was jerking his head toward another glass case. _They found it._ "If you'll excuse us," I said, giving a mock bow, and Beau returned it with a grin.

"Of course, madam."

I nodded once at him and steered Sam away. "You wanna calm the fuck down?" I hissed once we were out of earshot.

Sam's face turned red, and he frowned. "Sorry, I just—"

"Look, I can take care of myself, okay?" I broke in, feeling very irked. "I don't need you getting offended for me, and I _certainly_ don't need you trying to defend my honor or some archaic bullshit."

Hurt and annoyance flashed over his face. "Sorry," he repeated flatly. "Won't happen again."

This time when I rolled my eyes, it was at myself and not at him. _Stop feeling bad! Stop it_ now _! You've never had a problem being rude to anyone else; why the fuck is_ he _the exception? Just 'cause he looks like a puppy and smells like sunshine and purity doesn't mean anything! No attachments! Just salt, sex, and single-malt whiskey!_

"What happened to you two?" Dean asked as Sam and I approached him.

"I think Beau wants me to sell myself to possess the might of Thor," I said offhandedly. "Sam didn't like that idea."

Dean snorted, and I couldn't tell if he was ignoring his brother's annoyance or if he was just totally oblivious. "Well, in other news, there's this." He gestured to the glass case containing the tablet. A piece of metal was lying on top of the stone, blocking the writing from view.

"I guess we're not as original as we thought," Kevin commented, crossing his arms over his chest and looking very uncomfortable. Mrs. Tran, on the other hand, kept flipping between curious and protective. She looked at all of the other attendees as though they were simultaneously the most interesting and most dangerous things she'd ever encountered, and, to be honest, she was probably right.

"It's okay," Sam said, trying to be optimistic. "We just gotta come up with plan B."

"And what, pray tell, could possibly have been plan A?" The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the bored, drawling voice, and Sam stiffened beside me. I'd only heard that voice once before, but I didn't plan on forgetting it any time soon. We turned to see the King of Hell himself standing in front of us, a disdainful smirk on his face. "Bring the Prophet to the most dangerous place on Earth, memorize the tablet, and then…" He raised an eyebrow at Sam. "…va _moose_?" Sam's jaw tightened as Crowley grinned. "Hello, boys."

" _Crowley_ ," Dean growled.

Crowley ignored Dean and looked instead at the Prophet. "Kevin! What a pleasure to see you! Sorry about your little play-date. Her name…ah. Well, if you're gonna make an omelet, sometimes you have to break some spines." His eyes finally alighted on Mrs. Tran. "And who is this lovely young thing? Must be your sister."

He jumped back in alarm as Mrs. Tran slapped him hard across the face. " _Stay away from my son!_ " she snarled, and I had to resist the urge to cheer.

I saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch upward as Crowley rubbed the bright red handprint on his cheek. "Charming," he said drily. "Defiling her corpse has just made number one on my to-do list." The grin was gone from Dean's face, and he moved toward Crowley, looking pissed. Sam put a hand on his shoulder, and Dean glowered at his younger brother for a moment before shaking him off and standing completely still. Crowley smirked. "Uh, uh, uh. Don't mind a little love tap, but, anything more, and our mookie pals here may just throw you out, and that would be a shame."

"He's right, Dean," Sam said calmly. "It's not worth it."

"Listen to Moose, _Squirrel_ ," Crowley said wryly, and Dean raised his eyebrows in confusion at the nickname. _Moose and Squirrel… So, like, Rocky and Bullwinkle? Heh. That's kinda funny._ My thoughts were interrupted when Crowley said, "Garideth, darling. No love for dear old dad?"

"Uh-um, I'm sorry, uh— _what_?" I sputtered out, looking up at Sam bewilderedly. "He's joking, right?" I said disbelievingly. The younger Winchester's eyes were wide open like a deer in headlights, and the realization that that had to mean that Crowley was telling the truth hit me like a freight train to the chest. "S-Sam, he's not—? He—he _can't_ be—"

The desperation and fear in my voice snapped him out of it, and he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed once. I don't know how I understood what that meant, but I did: I knew that he was saying he'd explain everything as soon as he could, and I knew that he was saying to shake it off and play along with whatever Crowley said. I hoped that he could read my face well enough to see that I got the message, and, as he spoke, I knew that he had. "I dunno, babe…" Sam said slowly, shaking his head. "He looks pretty serious to me."

I tried not to react at the "babe" thing, and I saw the apology in his eyes as he said it. "Damn, Sammy," I said, playing along like he'd asked, "you think maybe even demons can feel a little remorse sometimes? Maybe 'dear old dad's' regretting the whole murder thing."

Crowley scoffed, and the suspicious look on his face turned to one of condescension. "You insult me, daughter. I—" He stopped talking as a bald man in a jogging suit came into the room. "Ah, here comes our host."

A loud voice spoke over the din of the crowd then, saying, "Honored guests, please take your seats."

" _That's_ Plutus?" Dean said as Crowley smirked at me and then walked away. Sam's hand tightened on my shoulder, and I reached up and put my hand on top of his without really thinking about it. His firm grip was reassuring, and it was helping me to not freak out. "What is he, god of the candy aisle?" Dean finished, and he looked disappointed when none of us laughed.

Beau approached us then. "Gentlemen, the auction is starting."

The crowd started moving into the auction room then. "Nice right hook," Sam said to Mrs. Tran.

"Yeah, you're my hero," I added, and Mrs. Tran blushed and gave an embarrassed grin. Kevin put his arm around his mom, grinning proudly as he steered them away.

I glanced over and saw Dean talking to a kid in a Weiner Hut uniform, and I decided I didn't even want to know what that was about. It was then that I noticed that Sam's hand was still on my shoulder and that my hand was still on top of his. Instead of shrugging him off, I clamped my hand down on his so that he couldn't run away. "Sam, what the fuck did that asshole mean when he said all that stuff?" I said, cutting straight to the chase.

As I predicted, Sam tried to pull away, and he frowned at my vice-like grip. "Look, now's not the time, okay?" he said anxiously.

"Sam, he called me his _daughter_. What the fuck is up with _that_?!"

"I promise I'll tell you later; just—just not _now_." I heard the sincerity in his voice, and, as I stared up into his wide, pleading eyes, I knew without a doubt that he would stay true to his word.

I let out a sigh of defeat. "Okay. But, after we get this tablet, I have to know _everything_."

"And you will," he promised, obviously relieved. "I'll tell you whatever you wanna know." I nodded, temporarily satisfied. "So…we're good?"

"We're good."

"Good."

I took his hand and moved it to my other shoulder so that his arm was now around me. He gave me a bewildered and slightly scared look, and I shrugged innocently. "What? We're supposed to be a couple, right, _babe_?" I teased, and his face turned beet red. "Did we _seriously_ call each other 'babe'?" I asked him as we walked into the auction room.

" _You_ started it," he said defensively.

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I changed my mind. "That…that actually does kinda sound like me," I conceded, and the smile I got in return was almost blinding.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" he agreed happily, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

 _God, I wish he wouldn't do this. How can the smallest things about me make him this happy? How can just being nice to him make him smile like that? And how the_ hell _is he making my heart do the fucking samba? God, I need to take a step back. I'm getting too close to him._ I knew what I was thinking was true. I _did_ need to distance myself from Sam. But, right then, with his arm around me and his eyes and his smile shining like the sun, I couldn't bring myself to do it just yet. _But soon. It's gotta be soon._


	5. I Don't Owe You Anything

**I don't own _Supernatural_ or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

We filed into a row of chairs beside Kevin and Mrs. Tran, and Dean followed us. The Weiner Hut kid was behind us, and, as Crowley took a seat beside him, he sneered, "Samandiriel. Slumming it, are we?" The kid scowled at Crowley and turned his head away, and Crowley smirked. _Samandiriel? What the hell kinda name is that? It doesn't sound_ human _._

I stopped puzzling over what Samandiriel could be when Beau tapped a gavel to begin the auction. "Ladies, gentlemen, and…other, welcome to this once-in-a-lifetime event! The first name in magical and alchemical esoterica!" Dean nodded at us, and we all pulled out our wallets and passed the contents to Dean. "Our prices may be high," Beau continued, "but our quality is unmatched, and we stand by our products."

Crowley leaned forward between Sam and me, and I made a face and leaned away from him. "Don't know why you're so keen on that hunk of dirt. So it tells you how to blast back a few demons? I'll just make more. Can't get rid of _all_ my black-eyed boys, Samantha," Crowley said smugly.

Sam's face was unreadable as he said, "Yeah, we'll see." I could tell that his words bothered Crowley, for he frowned and sat back in his seat. Sam looked at his brother, who had just finished counting our money. "Alright, so, how much we got for plan B?"

"Uh, well, we got our hacked credit cards, $2,000, and a, uh, Costco membership," Dean said unenthusiastically. Mrs. Tran gave him an encouraging nod, and he sighed.

"Our first item," Beau said, "the amulet of Hesperus. Let's start the bidding with, um, _three_ tons of dwarven gold?" Our little group exchanged looks of alarm as hands went up around the room. "Ah! This lady. I have three. Do I have four? Ah, four. Gentleman here, four. Going for five. Five? Five to this lady. Do we have an advance on five tons?"

Sam grimaced. "Plan C?"

Dean nodded. "Big time." He looked around as Beau sold the amulet of Hesperus for five tons of dwarven gold. "I'm gonna use the restroom." I didn't really see how that helped, but I said nothing as he got up and walked away.

"He's got a plan, right? That's what this is?" I whispered hopefully to Sam.

"Honestly," he shrugged, "with Dean, there's no telling."

" _Great_."

Just then, Crowley leaned between us again, but, this time, he focused on me. "So, darling, how'd you do it?" he asked. "How'd you get back?"

I locked eyes with Sam, silently asking him what I should say. He shrugged slightly, and I took that to mean that telling the truth was okay. "Your guess is as good as mine," I told Crowley. "Hell, if you're that curious, you could always look into it for me. God knows _I'm_ occupied enough as it is."

Crowley smirked. "Tempting offer. Too bad we're under surveillance here—I'd love a chance to do the job right."

Anger bubbled up in me, and I spun to face Crowley fully. "You're up for a rematch, then? _Good_. I've been just _dying_ to bash your smug little face in. Name the time and place, Daddy Dearest."

Sam's eyes were wide and anxious as he said warningly, "Gari, maybe you shouldn't—"

"D'you always make decisions for your girlfriend, Moose?" Crowley interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him.

" _No_ , he _doesn't_ ," I growled, glaring at Sam over Crowley's head. "And I'm _not_ his—"

"Our next item up for bid: the hammer of Thor, Mjolnir." Beau's voice thankfully stopped me from giving away valuable information, and I turned my head to listen to the auction for Mjolnir. I saw Crowley sit back in his seat as he realized I wasn't going to say anything more. I could practically feel the waves of fear and annoyance rolling off of Sam, and I was mad at myself for feeling bad. Yeah, maybe I had been a little stupid in egging Crowley on, but it was _my_ decision and _my_ life at risk. Sam needed to back off.

"A finger bone from the frost giant Ymir," a strange old man said, holding up a large finger. Beau looked back at Plutus, who shook his head, apparently unimpressed. "Uh…the bone and, uh…" The old man held up a bloodstained brown paper bag. "…five-eighths of a virgin!"

Sam made a face, and I let out a quiet, "Ew." Unfortunately, that seemed to draw the attention of Beau.

"Ms. Vulcan?" he prompted. "I remember your interest in this item, and I know that you have something of value. Something very… _power_ ful." He smirked at his own little joke, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Honey, I can call down thunderstorms all on my own," I said cockily. "Save your breath, and just give the hammer to the creepy old guy."

Beau looked disappointed, but the creepy old guy looked up at Plutus hopefully. After a moment, the god nodded his head. "Sold," Beau said, sounding put-out, but the old man grinned widely and bounced in his seat.

Dean sat back down then. "Plan C tanked," he mumbled.

"Maybe you should try plan D for ' _dumbass_ ,'" Crowley said sardonically, and Dean shot him a death glare.

"Our next lot, the Word of God." Beau held up the tablet, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "Capital-G—very old, very rare."

"Three billion dollars," Crowley said as he got to his feet.

"Whoa," the Winchesters said in unison, and I let out a low whistle.

Samandiriel also stood. "The Mona Lisa."

Crowley smirked. "The _real_ Mona Lisa. Where she's topless." _Huh. Okay._

"Vatican City."

"Alaska."

Beau raised a disdainful eyebrow. "Palin and a bridge to nowhere? No, thanks."

"Alright, the moon!" Crowley countered. _Wait, what?!_

"You're bidding the _moon_?!" Dean said disbelievingly.

Crowley gave him a contemptuous look. "Yeah, claimed it for Hell. Think a man named Buzz gets to go into space without making a deal?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, gentlemen," Beau said. "It seems that our reserve price has not been met. So, in order to stimulate the bidding, we're going to add an item to this lot."

I suddenly got a horrible feeling in my gut, and I turned to the younger Winchester. "Sam, we need to—"

It was too late. "Kevin Tran!" Beau said, pointing a finger at the kid. "Prophet of the Lord!"

"No!" Mrs. Tran gasped as Kevin disappeared. He reappeared, chained up beside Plutus, and the four of us surged to our feet. Two auction employees came up behind us and shoved us back down into our seats, and the Winchesters and I glared up at them hatefully.

"Mr. Tran is the only person on Earth who can read this tablet," Beau continued as if nothing had happened, "which makes them a _perfect_ matching set."

" _So_ out of your league," Crowley said, knowing that he'd won.

"So," Beau said, "do I hear a bid of—?"

"No, stop!" Mrs. Tran begged, standing again. "I'll give you whatever you want! I have a 401(K), my house!"

Plutus chuckled, and Beau said, "Good effort, Mrs. Tran, but I'm afraid this is a little out of your price range."

At the look on Mrs. Tran's face, I knew what was coming, and I couldn't let it happen. As she opened her mouth, I rose to my feet and said, "My powers."

Sam grabbed my arm and tried to tug me back down. "Gari, no!"

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?!" Dean hissed at me.

"He's just a kid," I said stubbornly, extracting myself from Sam's grip. "I can't let this family get torn apart because of something _we_ did." _Whether I can remember it or not,_ I finished in my head. _We brought Kevin into this, and I'm gonna get him out. I can't let anyone else end up like me._

Beau looked back at Plutus for approval, and the excitement was plain and dangerous on his face. Plutus scrutinized me for a long moment; then, as the boys and I waited with bated breath, he shook his head once. Beau's face fell. "I'm sorry," he said, "but that's still not enough."

" _What_?!" I exclaimed angrily. "Why _not_?! You've been trying to get me to bid my powers all night, and now they're not _enough_?!"

"I don't make the rules," Beau said regretfully, throwing a bitter look at Plutus over his shoulder.

"What's _enough_ for you, then?!"

Plutus looked at Mrs. Tran, and the words I'd been afraid of came out of her mouth. "My soul," she said quietly.

"Mom, don't!" Kevin cried.

"I bid my soul!" she repeated with more conviction.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked her. "That's a big move."

Mrs. Tran nodded firmly as Plutus said, "Interesting…" It was the first time I'd heard him speak; his voice was creepy and lecherous, and it made my skin crawl. I slowly sank back down to my seat, pointedly ignoring Sam's clenched jaw and near-tangible anger. I'd deal with that later.

"If it's souls that you're after," Crowley said, "I can give you a million souls."

Dean looked over his shoulder at Samandiriel. "Hey, flyboy, are you gonna get in on this?" _Flyboy? Wait…_

Samandiriel looked defeated as he said, "We guard the souls in Heaven. We don't horse-trade them." _So does that mean he's an angel? Oh, God. So they_ are _real. Fucking hell._

"So we have a deal," Crowley prompted hopefully.

"It's not about the quantity, chief," Plutus said, clearly enjoying this particular auction. "It's about the sacrifice." He looked at Mrs. Tran as he said, "This little lady's soul is the most valuable thing she has. It's _everything_." He raised his eyebrows at Crowley. "Are _you_ willing to offer everything, Mr. Crowley?"

The King of Hell hesitated, and Dean looked up at him with a smirk on his face. "Tick-tock," he mocked.

" _Fine_ ," Crowley said grudgingly. "You win." He drew himself up importantly and said, "I bid…my own soul!" _Wait, do demons_ have _souls?_

My question was answered as Plutus let out a very creepy laugh. "Mr. Crowley," he said, "you don't _have_ a soul." He turned his gaze to Mrs. Tran and gave her a slimy grin. "Congrats, sweetheart."

Crowley turned and stormed out of the room as Mrs. Tran cried, "Thank you, thank you!"

The rest of the auction passed in a blur—I honestly don't remember anything else that was auctioned off—and we were soon the only ones still in the auction room. We'd asked for some time for Mrs. Tran to prepare herself, and Beau had given it a little too willingly. He still kept regarding me with a hungry gaze, and I was almost grateful when Sam had stepped in front of me and blocked me from his view—almost, but not quite. His over-protectiveness was still extremely annoying.

"Losing my soul…" Mrs. Tran whispered, "…is it going to hurt?"

"Probably," Dean said honestly.

"Will I die?"

"No," answered Sam. "You'll just _wish_ you were dead." I suddenly realized that, if anyone should know that, he should. _God, I need to know more about them._

"…Okay," Mrs. Tran breathed, seeming to steady herself.

Beau entered the room then. "It's time."

Sam, Dean, and I stood, but Mrs. Tran remained seated. "You alright?" Dean asked her, and I thought it seemed like a stupid question to ask someone who was about to sell her soul.

"Yeah," she said thickly, as though she was about to cry, and I couldn't blame her. "Can I—can I just have a minute?"

As we walked away, Sam said, "This sucks."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean said, sounding almost _happy_. "We're about to close the Gates of Hell forever. If you ask me, we got off cheap."

Sam and I exchanged a look, and I was glad to see that he was troubled by his brother's opinion, too. However, neither of us said anything as we left the auction room and headed into the foyer with all of the artifacts. I saw the creepy old man pick up Mjolnir and cradle it to his chest. "Mjolnir, I've missed you," he crooned, and I made a face at him as he walked away.

"So what the hell was that back there?" Sam said to me, and I felt myself getting defensive already.

"That was me trying to fix our mistakes!" I said heatedly.

"Gari, you can't just sell your powers!" he argued. "I've seen you without them, and I can't let you go through that again! I can't let you suffer like that again!"

I was shocked into silence—not at the fact that I'd apparently lost my powers, as you'd expect, but at the amount of agony in his voice as he talked about _my_ pain. I could deal with thinking about us being together—I could even handle keeping up the façade that we actually _were_ —but every time I was made aware of just how much he'd cared for me and how much I'd potentially cared for him, I wanted to scream. It made me feel claustrophobic; like I was trapped by his feelings and my own feelings that I didn't remember but was somehow expected to still have. It wasn't like Sam intentionally put that pressure on me, but, every time he let his guard fall, every time he became affectionate or gentle or even happy at something I'd said or done, I felt all the pressure of his love for me and the expectations that came with it.

My mind finally cleared enough to allow me to defend myself. "Well, it's not _on_ you to _let_ me do anything, now, is it?!" I snapped. "They're _my_ powers, Sam! And I can do with them what I damn well please!"

"You're being reckless!" he persisted, but I could see the hurt in his eyes and knew that he'd give up the argument soon. He couldn't bear to have me mad at him—a sentiment that I definitely didn't reciprocate—and that was his weakness. I, on the other hand, would've found it easier if he'd gotten furious to the point of no longer wishing to speak to me.

"So what if I am?!" I retorted. "That is _honestly_ none of your concern! _I'm_ the only one trying to fix our mistakes, and I can't even remember _making_ them! What the fuck are you and your brother doing, _huh_?! Hell, Dean's over there considering Mrs. Tran losing her soul a goddamned _win_! At least I fucking _tried_!"

It was his turn to be struck speechless, and I could see the unwillingness to argue mixed with the desire to fight back churning in those distracting, bottomless hazel eyes of his. I screwed up my face in annoyance, breaking our eye contact and thus the spell that threatened to take over every time he gazed at me. I _wanted_ to be angry; I _deserved_ to be angry—I wasn't going to let him sway me.

Thankfully, I didn't have to fight much longer, for Plutus, Beau, and Mrs. Tran approached us then, and Dean stepped closer to Sam and me. I hadn't realized that he'd moved, but I appreciated him giving us some sort of privacy while we argued. "Where's the kid?" the older Winchester asked Plutus, who snapped his fingers and caused Kevin to appear.

"What are you gonna do with her soul?" Sam asked, and I couldn't tell if the harshness to his tone was because of me or Plutus.

"Whatever I want," Plutus said smugly. "I might sell it, or maybe I'll just tuck it away with my other precious objects, let them keep me warm at night. _Mmm_." I shuddered in revulsion as he chuckled. Mrs. Tran had looked afraid at first, but, as Plutus turned his gaze to her, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. Plutus held out his hands to her. "Whenever you're ready, dear." After a brief hesitation, Mrs. Tran held out a hand and stepped forward.

"Wait!" Dean said suddenly. He grabbed Mrs. Tran's outstretched arm and pushed up her sleeve, revealing a large burn where her anti-possession tattoo had been.

"Hello, boys," Mrs. Tran drawled, and her eyes flashed the red of a crossroads demon.

"Crowley!" Sam exclaimed, and then Mrs. Tran— _or Crowley? How do I refer to him/her?—_ flung out her arms and sent the three of us flying back into the wall.

"No, you _can't_!" Plutus cried. "My warding spells!"

"Your girl Friday showed me a few loopholes," Crowley said, nodding appreciatively at Beau. Plutus looked at Beau in bewilderment, and Beau smiled and shrugged. "And all it cost me was an island in the South Pacific," Crowley continued. "I _love_ a bargain." At that, Beau drove a stake into Plutus's back, killing him instantly. Crowley pulled the stake all the way through Plutus's chest and hurled it at the man guarding Kevin, who let out a yelp and fell to the ground. "Can't do all my tricks, but I can do enough."

"Get out of her!" Kevin yelled, and I ran for the kid, hoping to stop him before he could do anything stupid.

"If I had a nickel for every time someone screamed _that_ at me," Crowley joked as he picked up the Word of God.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean rummaging through the box of weapons near the door, and he pulled out the demon-killing knife. Determination rose up in me, and I knew that if I had to fight Dean to stop him from killing Mrs. Tran, I would. I couldn't let Kevin lose his family, not if I had even the slightest chance to stop it. Maybe selling my powers hadn't worked, but that just meant that I could use those powers to force Crowley to leave Mrs. Tran's body.

Both Sam and Dean moved with me in front of Kevin, and Dean quipped, "Gettin' in touch with your feminine side, huh, Crowley?"

"Something like that," the King of Hell replied wryly.

"Well, come and get him!" Dean challenged.

Crowley seemed to consider us for a minute then realized he'd be fighting a losing battle. "One outta two ain't bad," he said with a shrug, and he turned and ran from the room.

"Watch the kid!" Dean ordered us, and he took off after Crowley.

I made to follow, afraid of what Dean would do, but Kevin's cry of "Sam! Move!" distracted me, and I turned to see Beau pointing a gun at Sam's back. I flung my hand out, sending Beau careening backward and causing his shot to go wildly off-target. Beau fired a better-aimed shot at me, and I let out a cry as the bullet shot through my thigh.

"Gari!" Sam and Kevin yelped simultaneously, and Sam dashed out from the table he was hiding behind and pulled me back down with him. The creepy old guy was sitting back there, too, still cradling Mjolnir to his chest, and he looked between Sam and me fearfully. "Are you okay?" Sam asked worriedly, trying to pull my hand away from the hole in my leg.

"I'm _fine_ ," I said through gritted teeth. "We've gotta stop Dean."

"What are you talking about?" he said confusedly. "Stop Dean from _what_?"

"He'll kill her, Sam," I said bluntly—I couldn't worry about crossing a line with him now. "He has the knife, and he'll kill her if it means killing Crowley. We can't let him."

I could tell Sam didn't want to believe me. "Gari, he wouldn't—"

"He said her selling her soul was getting off _cheap_!" I interrupted. "He thinks it was worth it! He doesn't care about her if he can use her to kill Crowley! You _know_ I'm right, Sam, and we're wasting time!"

I started to push myself to my feet, but he grabbed my arm. "Okay," he said. "But you stay here. You can't get very far on that leg, anyway."

I nodded once. "What are you gonna do?"

He seemed to think for a minute; then his eyes drifted down to the old man and the hammer in his arms, and a small grin spread across his face. The man seemed to know what he wanted, and he gave up Mjolnir with shaky hands. "Promise you'll give it back!" the old man called as Sam stood up.

I peeked out over the top of the table to watch the scene. Kevin was running for the exit, and Beau was right behind him. "Don't!" Beau commanded, and Kevin turned slowly. "You know what's better than one private island?" Beau asked. " _Two_ private islands."

Kevin's eyes widened as he saw Sam come up behind Beau, drawing the hammer back in preparation. Sam swung Mjolnir with all his might, and lightning flashed as the hammer struck Beau's head, knocking it clean off his shoulders. Kevin sprinted out of the room as Beau's body fell to the floor, and I rose to my feet unsteadily as Sam let out a short huff and stared down at the body.

"Way to go, Thor," I said appreciatively. His chest was still heaving, and his hair was half in his face as he turned his head to throw me a cocky grin. My heart skipped a beat and I was struck again by just how gorgeous he was. I'd had time to get used to seeing him all day, but then he had to go and pull something like this, and it was taking all the strength I had not to just jump his bones right then and there. _No! Bad Gari! Down, girl! Stop it!_

The creepy dude stood up then and gazed at Mjolnir hungrily. "Okay," he said, regarding Sam with wide eyes. "Give it back. Give it _back_."

Sam held out the hammer, but he stopped before he let the old guy touch it. He stared down at the hammer for a minute then looked up at the man and said menacingly, "Where'd you get the five-eighths of a virgin?"

The strange old man smiled and shrugged innocently, and he squeaked out a terrified, "Oh, no!" as Sam swung the hammer around again. Lightning struck as it made contact, and Sam let Mjolnir slide out of his hands and onto the ground.

He made his way over to me, still breathing hard. "You okay?" he asked me, sliding his arm around my shoulders to support me, and I put my arm around his waist as he helped me limp out of the room.

"That was so fucking _hot_ ," I said, not bothering to stop the words from flowing, and the blush on his cheeks told me I'd made the right choice. "Seriously, _whoa_. How d'you feel about role-playing?"

"I don't—I, uh—what?" he stuttered out, looking adorably flustered.

"Y'know, in the bedroom," I continued, enjoying how uncomfortable I was making him. "'Cause I could _definitely_ get down with that. I mean, you've certainly got the hair for it." I made an exaggerated show of looking him up and down. " _And_ the muscles. Now you just need the accent. Y'know, I think your nickname is Thor from now on. I like it better than 'Goliath.'"

"Gari, p-please stop talking."

I grinned up at him. "Sure, whatever you say. You should seriously keep Mjolnir, though. It suits you. Also, since Plutus, Beau, and creepy old guy are dead, there's no one to stop you from taking it."

"Are you saying that for me or for yourself?" he asked, obviously relieved at the subject change.

I shrugged. "Maybe a little of both? I mean, what else are we gonna do with it?"

"If we get outta here, I think it should be safe. All the monsters and gods left already, and no one else knows where this place is. It could just stay here forever."

"But it doesn't _have_ to."

" _Gari_ ," Sam said sternly, and I sighed.

" _Fine_ ," I pouted. "Let's just leave the coolest weapon ever here to be forgotten."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Thor." I winked at him, and his blush surged up again. I figured that made us even for the time being. "You think they're okay?" I asked him, starting to get worried.

"Kevin would've made it in time," he assured me.

"You think Dean would listen to him?"

"Yeah, I do." He said the words with so much conviction, but, looking up at his face, I could see the uncertainty there.

"He's different, isn't he?" I guessed, and Sam's eyes flicked down to mine. "Since he came back, I mean?"

"He's not the only one," he said evasively.

"But he's still _him_ ," I pressed. "He's still Dean; he's just more severe, colder. Right?"

He continued to evade my questions. "You're still you, too."

I shook my head. "I don't think I am. I know _you'd_ like to think that, but I think you're just desperate. You don't wanna admit that the Gari you knew isn't me; that the woman you loved is gone."

He didn't reply to that; he just pressed his lips together and tightened his grip on me, picking up the pace a little while still making sure he wasn't hurting me. I didn't know what made me say those things, but I was glad I had. I needed to say something to get him to stay away, and I hoped I could do it as gently as possible. Though I knew it probably hadn't worked, it was worth a shot.

We entered the auction room to find Dean standing behind Kevin, who was sitting in a chair across from Mrs. Tran with his hand on her knee. I noticed that something was off immediately: Mrs. Tran was staring blankly straight ahead, with absolutely no indication that she could see her son at all. "What happened?" I asked.

Dean's head jerked up—apparently, he hadn't heard us enter. "Crowley got away with the tablet," he said bitterly, and I noticed that he was glaring at Kevin. _What the hell's_ his _problem?_ "When he got out of her, she was like this."

"Has she said anything?" Sam asked, and Kevin shook his head.

"Listen, Kev," Dean started, and, while I knew he was gearing up for a pep talk, his voice sounded too harsh, "what your mom went through—it's hell. Trust me, I know. But she seems tough. She'll pull it together."

Kevin didn't say anything for a minute, but, when he did, his voice shook with quiet, barely controlled fury. "You tried to kill her."

Dean didn't seem apologetic at all, and that unnerved me. "Kid, in this life—"

"Shut up!" Kevin yelled, hanging his head and staring at his lap. "I don't wanna hear any more of your crappy speeches! I just wanna talk to my mom _alone_."

I pulled away from Sam and limped over to Kevin. "Sure, kid," I said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting, but I was scared that I came across as awkward more than anything. His hand twitched upwards as though he was about to touch my hand, but he seemed to think better of it. "Take as much time as you need." I squeezed his shoulder once before shuffling back over to the Winchesters, and I let Sam support me once more as we walked into the next room.

"Dean," Sam said slowly, and I could see the wariness in his eyes, "were you really gonna, uh…"

"What? Slit soccer mom's throat?" Dean finished brusquely. "Yeah, I was. I wish I _had_."

"Dean—"

"It was _Crowley_ , Sam," Dean said earnestly. "No matter _what_ meat suit he's in, I should've knifed him. I mean, yeah, it would've sucked, and I would've hated myself, but what's one more nightmare, right?"

"That's his _family_ ," I said, unable and unwilling to stop the anger from seeping into my voice. "You're a hunter—a fucking _Winchester_ , for fuck's sake—you should know better than anyone how fucking special that is!"

"Stopping Crowley—closing the Gates of Hell—that's pretty goddamn special, too!" Dean retorted.

"So if it was reversed and Crowley had possessed Sam, you're saying _you_ wouldn't have stopped _Kevin_ from killing your own _brother_?!"

"It's not like he's been carin' all that much about _me_ lately, is it?!"

The look on Sam's face wasn't sadness; it was guilt. It was a sure sign that he believed he deserved what his brother had said, and I couldn't deal with it. Rage burst out from me in a small wave of power, sending Dean stumbling back a few steps. "What the fuck is your _problem_ , man?!" I yelped. "I know for a fact you don't mean that because all I heard from Greg is how goddamn codependent you two are, but _what the fuck_?! You don't say shit like that to your family! I don't care _what_ kinda drama you've been through; that's crossing the goddamn line!"

"You think you got a right to tell me what to do?!" Dean snapped back at me. "Maybe you forgot, sweetheart, but you don't know me at all. Not anymore. You don't know _what_ the hell I'll do."

"And neither, apparently, does your _brother_! _God_ , I get that you were slaying monsters in Purgatory for a year, but d'you have to be such a pretentious little dickwad all the time?!"

"That's a new one," Sam muttered under his breath, and both Dean and I glared at him.

Dean opened his mouth to argue with me some more, but then he paused and a troubled look crossed his face. "Does it seem a little quiet in there to you?" he asked us.

Sam and I exchanged a look, and we crossed over to the door and opened it. Kevin and Mrs. Tran were no longer in the auction room. "Kevin?" Sam called worriedly as we walked back inside. "Kevin!"

"You've _gotta_ be kidding me!" Dean huffed. I watched him walk to one of the chairs, and he leaned down and picked up a note. "Hey!" he said, getting our attention.

Sam helped me walk over to his brother, saying, "What's it say?"

Dean scanned the note quickly. "Uh, that they bolted, that we shouldn't come looking, and, since we lost the tablet, Kevin figures we don't need him."

"Yeah, but _Crowley_ still does!" Sam said, running his free hand through his hair in frustration, and I tried to focus on my worry for the Trans instead of the way Sam's hair fell around his face. _Stop it!_ I reprimanded myself again. "What's that kid _thinking_?!"

 _That_ certainly made me focus again, and I was just opening my mouth to rant at the brothers when Dean, still staring at the note, said, "He thinks people I don't need anymore—they end up dead."

"Dean, that—that's not true," Sam said, rushing to reassure his brother even though Dean had been tearing him down not ten minutes ago. "You _know_ that."

"Let's get outta here," Dean said, ignoring his brother, and he left the room without waiting to see if we were behind him.

" _Is_ it true?" I asked Sam quietly.

" _No_ , it's _not_ ," he said firmly, and I nodded, deciding to take him at his word. His eyes softened as he looked down at me, and he sighed. "How's your leg?" he asked.

"The bullet's still in there," I replied, wincing as I put weight on it. "Once I get it out and patch myself up, I should heal fairly quickly."

"I'll help you," he offered. "That's not gonna be fun to do on your own."

I gazed up at him for a minute, wondering if I should refuse and realizing I didn't want to. That made my decision for me. "I got it," I said a bit shortly. "But thanks."

He picked up on my change in mood instantly, and he nodded once. "Yeah. No problem."

We didn't speak again as he helped me through the warehouse, and I was left alone with my confusing and conflicting thoughts concerning Sam Winchester.


	6. I'm Paralyzed and Locked Outside Myself

"You promised me an explanation."

Sam jumped at the sound of my voice, jerking his head up from the book he was reading and staring at me with wide eyes. "W-what?" he said in a very unconvincingly confused voice.

I leaned against the doorframe and narrowed my eyes at him. "You _know_ what I'm talking about."

He let out a short huff. "Yeah, I do."

"How the hell could I be _Crowley's daughter_?! I mean, my dad was a monster, sure," I shrugged, trying to seem unaffected, "but he wasn't a frigging _demon_."

Sam gave me a long look. "You wanna sit down?" he said after a minute, gesturing to the spot on the couch beside him. "I know your leg's gotta hurt, and this won't be easy to hear."

I raised my eyebrows but otherwise didn't move. "Try me."

He frowned, his forehead creasing as he thought of what to say, and the longer he took, the more nervous I became. Finally, without any warning, he said, "Your mother was a witch."

My eyes widened, and a disbelieving grin stretched over my face. "I knew it!" I exclaimed. "I _knew_ she was like me! Wait, but—" My face fell as I thought about the implications of that. "Does—does that mean she was evil?"

Sam shook his head. "She tried to get out—she wanted to protect you. And Crowley killed her for it."

" _Crowley_?! But—but _why_?! Why would _he_ —?!" The look on Sam's face told me what I already knew but didn't want to acknowledge. "He was the demon she sold her soul to, wasn't he?" I asked quietly, and Sam nodded slowly. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, clenching my fists as I tried to keep calm. _Control it. Don't let your anger go yet. Save it for Crowley. Save it for your mother's sake._ I opened my eyes and looked back at Sam. "That still doesn't explain why he calls me his daughter."

"Gari…"

"No, Sam, you _promised_."

"You don't know what you're asking."

I walked over to stand right in front of him, trying my hardest not to limp, and I crossed my arms over my chest as I stared down into his eyes. _It's weird looking down at him,_ I noted distractedly. _He's so freaking tall; I usually have to crane my neck to make eye contact._ "I can handle it," I said stubbornly. "I _deserve_ to know."

He broke eye contact then, staring at the ground, and I knew I'd convinced him. "How far did you get in the books?" he asked, and I frowned in confusion. _Okay, maybe I_ didn't _convince him._

"I don't see what that has to do with—"

"Are you at season two yet?"

"No…" I said, still utterly confused. "Halfway through season one."

" _Great_ ," he huffed, seemingly to himself.

"Sam, just tell me," I urged. "Stop stalling and _tell me_."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and he slowly lifted his head, gazing up at me. "Let me tell you something about _me_ first, something that I don't really like people to know."

I had to admit, I was a little intrigued. Even though I could tell he was still kind of stalling, I was curious about Sam Winchester's deep, dark secrets. "Did I know before?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, you did. I told you not too long after we'd met. We ran into each other on a few hunts, and you'd finally gotten to the point where you didn't hate me so much. I think you might've started to even _like_ me a little," he teased, and I fought back a grin, not wanting to encourage this familiarity. I wanted the truth, and that was it. Anything else was just wasting my time and making it harder to pull away from him. When he saw that I wasn't amused, he continued somberly, "Dean locked you in Bobby's panic room because he thought you were drinking demon blood after seeing you attempt to exorcise a demon with your mind."

I blinked rapidly. "And, uh, _why_ would that be the conclusion he jumped to?"

"Because _I_ used to be able to exorcise demons with my mind."

It took a minute for what he'd said to sink in, and, when it did, my eyes grew wide with shock, and, if I was being honest, a little bit of disgust. "Why the _fuck_ —?!"

"It's a long story," Sam interrupted quickly, "and I'll tell you again someday, but it's not important now." He looked to me for my agreement, and I nodded slowly—knowing the truth about myself was more important. "Anyway… When I was six months old, a demon named Azazel fed some of his blood to me." As he said the demon's name, his eyes flicked up to mine, as though watching for a reaction. I, however, had never heard the name before, so I just stared back at him until he started talking again. "When I turned twenty-two, I started having death visions. Later on, I found out drinking demon blood enhanced my powers even more, making me stronger and letting me exorcise demons without killing their vessels."

I subtly shifted the weight off of my injured leg as I raised my eyebrows at him. "I still don't get what this has to do with me being Crowley's daughter."

"Crowley calls you his daughter because…" Sam trailed off and looked up at me pleadingly, as if begging me not to make him continue, as if hoping I could figure it out on my own.

And, suddenly, I knew. " _No_ …" I breathed, and Sam frowned sympathetically. I refused to believe it—it couldn't be true. "Say it," I ordered, my eyes and voice hardening as my stubborn nature took over. "I need to hear you say it, Sam."

His deep hazel eyes went into full puppy mode. "Gari, please don't—"

" _No_ , I _need_ to hear it."

He reached for my hand then, and I was too stunned to pull away. "He calls you his daughter because…because he gave you his blood," he said quietly. "Because he's part of the reason you have your powers."

My legs started to give out, and I sank down onto the couch beside him, shaking my head in disbelief as tears welled up in my eyes. "It can't be true," I whispered, squeezing my eyes closed against the tears. "I-I can't be _that_ fucked up…" I opened my eyes and looked at Sam, feeling lost and pathetic, like a helpless child. "…Can I?"

I saw the pain he felt for me in his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat as he pushed my hair behind my ear and cupped my face in his hand. The motion seemed almost subconscious, as did the way I leaned into him. "I'm sorry, Gari," he murmured. His thumb swiped under my eye, catching a tear I hadn't felt fall before it rolled down my cheek. _So much for not crying._

"Thank you," I said thickly, blinking back more tears. "Thank you for telling me." I was almost unaware of turning my face so that my lips pressed against his palm, and when I noticed what I was doing, I realized that it felt right. Warning bells went off in my head, but I couldn't bring myself to care right then. Having him there to comfort me felt too good, and I wanted to bask in his concern for a little while longer.

He had stiffened at my touch, and a tentative, gentle smile spread across his face as my eyes met his. "Anything for you," he said, and he blushed as soon as the words left his mouth.

We were close now, closer than we'd been since the night I'd come back from the dead, and I could almost feel him pulling me in, like he had his own center of gravity that I couldn't escape. I leaned toward him, not knowing if I wanted his lips on mine or his arms wrapped around me, but just knowing that I wanted _him_ , and that was enough right then.

I did my best to silence my thoughts, knowing that I would pull away if I let myself think about what I was doing. I slid one hand up his chest and to the back of his neck, threading my fingers into his hair and using my grip to pull him down towards me. His eyes widened, and he stuttered out, "G-Gari, are you—"

"Shhh," I interrupted breathlessly. "Don't ruin it."

He looked like he was going to protest, but I silenced him by pressing my lips to his. It took him a while to respond, and I knew that he was preparing himself for another of my mood swings. Honestly, I was surprised and impressed with myself for not having freaked out yet. As long as I focused on Sam—and, _yes_ , then his lips parted beneath mine, and the hand that wasn't still cupping my cheek pressed into the small of my back, pulling me closer—everything was going to be alright. This was fine; this was _more_ than fine; it was _right_ ; it was _good_ ; it was—

It was too much.

I jerked away from Sam, pushing hard against his chest to put as much space between us as possible, and I sprang to my feet, despite the pain that shot through my leg. I shook my head rapidly, unable to look at him, too ashamed to see those ever-understanding eyes filled with sympathy. "I-I can't. I just—I can't," I stuttered out as I backed further away from him. "I-I can't do this. I—"

"I'm sorry," he broke in softly, almost masking the hurt and alarm in his voice. "I didn't mean to scare you; I—"

"N-no, it's me; it was me; it was my fault," I insisted, and I knew that it really was. I noticed that he was still sitting, and I knew that he was trying not to startle me further—that just made me panic even more. "I just—I-I need some air." My eyes finally darted to his. " _Don't_ come after me this time." I spun and dashed out of the room and out of the house, pushing through the halfway healed gunshot wound that screamed at me to stop and ignoring Sam's desperate voice calling after me.

Dean was washing John's Impala, and he glanced up, startled, as my powers slammed the front door behind me. I could see on his face that he was worried, and I quickly took off in the opposite direction before he got the chance to speak.

I headed into the backyard, sparing a glance at Riot, who barked excitedly and tried to jump the fence to run to me, even though I was still a stranger and had only pet the dog once. I didn't want him to pick up on my mood; I didn't want my anger and confusion to affect his happiness. _Okay, so a dog's feelings matter, but not Sam's?_ a small, spiteful voice said in the back of my head. _Glad we've got our priorities straight._

I scrunched up my face and let out a groan, and I ran my hands through my hair and dropped to my knees in front of an old oak tree on the edge of Ella's yard. I stared up at the sky, frowning as I saw dark clouds swirling above me. _Oh, c'mon. Not this again. Control it._ Fight _it._

But it was too late. My emotions were too uncontrollable. As I squeezed my eyes closed and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold my powers back, I felt pain ripping through me; a loud crack sounded and I was thrown backward across the yard, knocking into the chain-link fence and causing Riot to let out a loud yelp.

"Gari!" a gruff voice yelled, and I sat up slowly, moaning as I blinked spots out of my eyes. Dean dropped down beside me and put his hands around my face, causing me to look at him, and his eyes frantically scanned my face for signs of damage. "Are you okay?! Can you hear me?! How many fingers am I holdin' up?!"

"N-none, you d-dork," I coughed out. "T-they're on my f-face. W-why are you t-touching me?"

He rolled his eyes and drew back his hands. "Okay, yeah, you're fine. What the hell _happened_?!"

"I-I lost c-control," I admitted ashamedly, casting my eyes downward. "S-Sam… Um… I-I freaked out. Couldn't s-stop it."

He didn't ask me to elaborate, and I mentally thanked him for that. Instead, he looked past me and let out a low whistle. "Man, Ella's gonna kill you for hurtin' her tree."

I followed his gaze confusedly, and I let out a small gasp at the giant oak that was now split right down the middle, barely held together at the base of the trunk, and even the highest branches touched the ground. "Aw, f-fuck." I coughed again, trying to clear my throat. "I didn't m-mean to do that."

"Yeah, well, you can break the news to her. That tree's the reason she wanted to build the house here."

"Aw, _fuck_!" I repeated; then I let out a sigh. Dean stood up and held out a hand. I took it and gratefully let him hoist me to my feet and steady me when I was standing. "T-thanks," I said a little breathlessly. He made to let go of me, but I tightened my grip on his hand as the world started spinning and I felt the ground swaying below me.

"Whoa, whoa, Gari, hey," he said worriedly, pulling his hand away so he could wrap his arm around my waist. "I got ya. Just lean on me. Don't pass out, okay?"

"Tryin' my b-best," I mumbled as my head lolled against his shoulder.

"Maybe I should've let you sit down longer."

I wanted to give a sarcastic reply, but my mouth wasn't working right, and my tongue felt all funny. "Mhm," I agreed instead.

"Okay, I'm gonna take you inside," he said as he started us toward the house, half-carrying and half-dragging me. "Gonna let Sam take a look at you. He's got a better chance of findin' out how to fix you than I do."

"N-no. _No_ ," I protested weakly. "N-not S-Sam."

"Gari, now's not the time. You're pretty messed up. Sam can help."

"I-I'll be f-fine. J-just… I just needa l-lie down for a m-minute." I stumbled and found myself looking down at a very comfortable-looking patch of grass. "T-this looks g-good," I said, and I pulled away from Dean and promptly fell to the ground. He panicked and tried to catch me, but I didn't care. The grass was as comfortable as it looked, and I gave a happy sigh and stretched out on my back.

"Okay, yeah, I'm getting Sam," Dean said definitively, and he turned away from me. I grabbed his pants leg to hold him back, and he almost face-planted onto the ground beside me. "What the hell, Gari?!"

"D-don't get him," I begged. "I'm a-okay. Five-b-by-five."

Dean huffed in annoyance, but he couldn't suppress the smirk growing on his face. "Well, you're makin' _Buffy_ references, so ya can't be that bad."

I nodded slowly, a lazy smile stretching across my lips. "T-told ya."

He sat down beside me, and the grin faded from his face. Concern crept back into his eyes. "Are you really okay? 'Cause you're kinda scarin' me, Vulcan. More than usual."

I closed my eyes and turned my face up towards the sky, not wanting to see the emotion on his face any longer. I got enough of that from Sam. "Ya r-really worry 'bout me t-that much?" I asked, avoiding his question. "Even you?"

He was silent for a minute, and I wondered if he was thinking of a way to avoid my question, too. "Gari, look," he said finally, his voice quiet and uncomfortable, something I'd never heard from him. "I don't do chick flick moments; it's one of my rules. But you need to hear it, so I'm just gonna stow my pride for once." My curiosity was piqued, and I cracked open my eyes and turned my head to stare at him. He was looking down at his hands, and his shoulders were hunched up, just like Sam's did when he was nervous. _I wonder if Sam gets that from him._ "You and Sammy and Ella—you're the only family I got. You're, uh…you're like a sister to me. We've gone through hell for each other, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. So, uh, yeah. Yeah, I really worry about you that much."

I'd thought that Dean could calm me down, but he did just the opposite. _There's one more person who loves me. One more person I don't remember. One more person I'm disappointing._ Panic started building in my chest again, and it moved through my stomach and up my throat. _Okay, nope, not panic,_ I realized, _nausea._ "I-I'm gonna t-throw up," I warned Dean, and I promptly rolled over and did just that, emptying the contents of my stomach onto my comfortable patch of grass.

Dean didn't recoil; instead, he pulled my hair back from my face with one hand and placed his other hand on my upper back in an attempt to comfort me as I continued to heave. "That's it," he said, a slightly exasperated tone in his voice, "just let it out. Atta girl."

After a few minutes, I sat back on my knees and wiped my mouth, and he let go of my hair but kept his hand on my back. "Ugh," I rasped, though I was thankfully feeling better, "I'm sorry."

He ran his hand up and squeezed my shoulder. "It's not the first time I've had to do that," he said, and I glanced over at him to see that he was frowning.

"Didn't think you'd frown on getting wasted," I teased, and I was relieved that my voice was steady again.

He forced a smile. "Heh. Yeah."

I noticed just how serious he was then. "Dean, what is it?"

He shook his head. "Nothin'. Don't worry about it. So you wanna tell me what made you freak out and electrocute a tree?"

"Not really."

"It was Sam, wasn't it?"

"Maybe just a little."

"What happened?"

I swallowed roughly and stared at my hands, unable to look at Dean and see the confirmation of what I was about to say on his face. "He told me Crowley killed my mom and gave me his blood, that he's the reason I have my powers." Dean didn't say anything, and I finally looked at him. His face was nearly unreadable, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, "it's true."

"I was kinda hoping you'd lie."

"Sorry to disappoint. Is that it?"

"Yep," I said quickly, nodding my head. There was no _way_ I was going to tell him about kissing Sam. "It's just kinda hard to hear, y'know?"

By the look he gave me, I knew that he could tell that I was lying, but he thankfully didn't question me. "You feelin' better?" he asked instead.

"Yeah, thanks."

"You smell liked burnt hair."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, shut up."

He grinned and stood up. "You think you're okay now?"

I took the hand he offered me. "Only one way to find out." He pulled me up, taking most of my weight just to be safe. He hesitantly let go of me, watching me warily. I was still a little dizzy and my throat still felt raw, but, other than that, I felt fine. I gave him a small nod. "I'm good," I assured him. "Really."

His grin grew and he threw an arm around my shoulders. He was trying to be casual, but I could tell he was really just taking precautions in case I started to fall again. Although the concern still freaked me out, I was touched by his subtle support. "Let's get you back inside and maybe get a few beers," he suggested, "and then you can help me finish washin' my baby."

"Are you really that obsessive over her? She's not even dirty."

"Yeah, I know; I just…" He trailed off and dropped his head, looking both sad and embarrassed.

"What is it?"

"It's how I let Ella know," he said reluctantly.

"Huh?"

He finally met my eye. "It's how I let her know we're about to leave. A few days before we head out, I wash the car to break it to her slow. So she knows what's up before I have to tell her. So she's got time to prepare. I don't like just springin' it on her."

I was struck silent by his thoughtfulness. Dean Winchester was just full of surprises. _He really loves her. I can't believe I ever thought he was like John._ The thought startled me, and I wondered when I had reached that conclusion. After a minute, I realized that I'd acknowledged their differences a long time ago; I just hadn't wanted to admit it to myself. I hadn't wanted another reason to get even more attached to these boys. It had already happened too fast with Sam, and it was happening with Dean now, too. I wished more than anything that things were different, that I could go back in time and change the chain of events that led to us meeting the Winchesters. I wanted it to be Ella and me against the world, like it was supposed to be. I didn't want to feel such affection and compassion for them; why couldn't I care for them like I would for a random stranger whose life I'd saved? Just a passing concern, a _thanks for keeping Ella safe_ , and a heartfelt goodbye?

"Gari?" Dean said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said a little distractedly, and I casually stepped out from under his arm. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He cocked an eyebrow at me, but he didn't push it. "So, uh, you wanna come with us? On the hunt?"

I frowned. "You and Sam?" He nodded a little sarcastically, as if to say _Who else?_ "I think I'm gonna stay with Elle. I haven't been here enough. I left two days after I got back, and I need to be with her."

"Yeah, okay, I get it. We're gettin' to be a little too much for you, aren't we?" I pressed my lips together and lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. _How the hell did he know?_ He patted me on the back. "That's okay. Take your time. Take all the time you need. And we'll be here when you're ready to kick some monster ass." He grinned again, but there was sadness in his eyes. I wondered what he must be going through, too, after "kicking some monster ass" for a whole year, but I didn't feel close enough to him to ask, and I doubted he would've told me the truth, anyway. "So how about that beer?"

My grin mirrored his, along with the sadness in my eyes. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I supposed it was about time I ended up in the nursery.

I'd meant to visit earlier, to spend time with Ella's children— _my niece and nephews_ , I realized with a jolt—but I'd left with the Winchesters soon after I'd come back from the dead, and I'd only seen the kids in passing. Now, however, there was no avoiding them, no matter how much the thought of being around them made me nervous. Ella had always been the one that was good with kids, and I had always been the one that inevitably did something to make them cry.

I stood by the door and watched Sami and Johnny play with building blocks. Ella had Lee in the living room with her, so the toddlers were allowed to be as loud as they wanted to be. Thankfully, they were too wrapped up in their toys to have noticed me yet.

"Dat's mine!" Sami whined as Johnny took one of her blocks, and she reached her short little arms as far as she could, but Johnny pushed her away.

"Nuh-uh! It's mine!" he protested.

"You dot lots of blocks!" Sami argued, still reaching for her block. "Dat one's mine!" When Johnny still refused to give it back, she balled her hand into a tiny fist and started hitting him.

"Stop! Stop! No!" Johnny wailed, and I took that as my cue to rush forward.

I knelt down beside the toddlers, and I grabbed Sami's arm before she could hit Johnny again. "Hey, hey, whoa, kiddo! No need for violence! It's just a toy!"

"But it's mine!" the little girl said stubbornly, glaring up at me with defiant green eyes that looked like Dean's. "He's dot more!"

"So?" Johnny said, wiping his tears and holding the block against his chest. "I want this one!"

I looked at the toys in front of the twins. Sami was right; Johnny had the majority of the blocks and was on his way to making a tiny city, whereas Sami could barely make one house. "Johnny, why don't you give just that one to Sami?" I said, keeping my voice bright and friendly. "You've gotta lot of blocks, and she needs to be able to finish her house."

"Yeah!" Sami agreed.

Johnny frowned and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. "But—but—but—"

"Sami will ask nicely," I said to him, "won't you Sami?" Sami wouldn't meet my eye. "C'mon, Sami, ask Johnny nicely for the block and maybe he'll give it to you. Don't forget to say 'please.'"

Sami huffed and looked at her brother. "Can I have da block?" she asked, and she fixed her face into a puppy dog expression worthy of her namesake. "Pwease?"

Johnny looked up at me with big blue eyes, and I nodded at him. He sighed and held the block out to his sister. "'Kay. Here."

Sami grinned and added the block to her building, officially completing her house. "Sami, what do we say?" I prompted.

She didn't even look at Johnny, too enraptured with her house, as she said, "Dank you, Johnny!" Johnny just grumbled to himself and went back to building his city.

"You're still good with 'em," a voice said from behind me, and I turned my head to see Ella standing in my previous spot and holding Lee as he slept. "Even if ya don't wanna admit it."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I decided to explain myself. "Johnny stole one of Sami's blocks, so she started hitting him. I had to do _something_."

Ella sighed and rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "She's so _violent_. I don't get it. She's hardly even been around ya that much."

"Gee, thanks."

Ella's mouth quirked up at the corner. "What're ya doin' in here, anyway?"

I stood up as I said, "I figured I should probably reacquaint myself with my niece and nephews, especially if I'm gonna be hanging around you all the time. Looks like you're a package deal."

"That kinda tends to happen when ya got three kids."

"I wasn't saying it was a bad thing!" I said hurriedly, scared I'd offended her. "I was just saying it was something I'd failed to do before I left with the boys, and it's something I needed to do. These kids need to get to know their super cool aunt, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Ella said with a grin and a roll of her eyes. "Ya wanna hold your legacy, then? Get to know him?"

"You mean the fragile, sleepy little creature in your arms?" I said nervously.

"Did ya just call my baby a creature?!"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way!"

"Ugh, fine. So d'ya wanna hold him or not?"

"You'd trust me to hold your tiny child?"

She laughed. "Surprisingly, yes. But why don'tcha sit down first? You'll be more comfortable, and ya won't make me so damn nervous."

"Uh, alright." I made my way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room and slid as far back into the seat as I could go. "Okay, let's do this."

"Don't be scared! It's contagious!" Ella reprimanded me. "Now hold out your arms, and remember to support his head, and be gentle, and maybe hold him close to ya 'cause that's more comfortable for both of y'all and your arms won't get tired so fast, and try not to move too much just in case 'cause I know ya don't wanna deal with a cryin' baby."

" _You're_ _making it worse_!" I hissed as she slowly and carefully placed Lee in my arms. "Now I'm _really_ freaking out."

"It's okay; just be… _calm_ ," she finished as she withdrew her arms and sat down on the floor in front of me. I held Lee close to my chest, just like Ella had said, and I used my free hand to move the blanket away from his face. His hand twitched up and wrapped around my index finger, and I let out a small gasp, afraid I'd woken him up. "You're fine," Ella assured me, "he just likes holdin' onto somethin' when he sleeps. He had my amulet earlier." She held up a silver disk with a blue stone in the center, and I realized that it was identical to the one around my neck that had glowed when I said the Latin word inscribed on it.

"So what's the deal with those?" I asked her, my voice way quieter than usual out of fear of waking up the baby.

Ella didn't seem to have the same concerns, however, for she continued in her usual loud twang. "Bobby gave 'em to ya a few years ago, and ya gave one to me. Ya hold it over a map and say ' _quarere_ ' and then it lights up and finds the other amulet's location."

"So it's just a way simpler locator spell? One that always works and doesn't require multiple ingredients?"

"Pretty much."

"But why'd I give you that? We're never apart."

Ella frowned and looked at her son rather than me. "We were…for 'bout a year. After Sam went to Hell."

" _What_?! _Why_?!" I yelped, temporarily forgetting to be quiet, and Lee stirred in my arms. I grimaced and glanced down at him, making sure he was still sleeping.

"Well, uh, I got pregnant with the twins, and ya decided ya needed to be alone for awhile after losin' Sam," she said awkwardly.

"I _left_ you?! After losing a _guy_?!" I said disbelievingly, although I remembered to keep my voice down this time. "You're shitting me! I'd _never_ do that!"

"Well, uh…" she shrugged. "Ya did. I don't think ya meant to be gone for a year, but some stuff happened, and we finally came and got ya once Sam came back."

"What kinda stuff?" I asked, sensing the hesitation in her voice. "Everyone keeps talking about things that I did without actually _telling me what I did_! The day I came back, when I said the last thing I remembered was the kelpie, you freaked out because it was 'before' something happened, and I had to eavesdrop on your conversation with the Winchesters to figure out you were talking about Lenore! And Dean called me a monster for some reason—like, I know I'm a freak, but I've only ever done one thing that could've possibly warranted getting called a monster, and that was when I was nine! And Sam's been evading my questions for ages, and, even when he told me about my connection to Crowley, I could tell he was still keeping stuff from me! I just wanna know what the hell's going on: what we did—what _I_ did—in those ten years that apparently fucked me up!"

"Gari, I…" She looked down at the floor as she trailed off. I waited impatiently for her to finish, and, just when I was about to give up, she said, "I just don't think you're ready to know everythin'."

"Well, since they're _my_ memories, it's kinda _my_ decision, isn't it?" I argued.

"Ya got addicted to demon blood, okay?!" she rushed out heatedly. "Ya left me and Dean and ya went off on your own and ya got hooked on demon blood for a year and didn't snap outta it until ya killed a goddamn _kid_!" As soon as the words left her lips, she let out a gasp and clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror and regret. I was struck dumb with shock, unable to do anything but gape at her in fury and disbelief. The twins had stopped playing to stare at us worriedly. " _I'm so sorry_ ," Ella whispered as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry; I shouldn'ta said that; I shoulda waited until we were alone and I wasn't angry and we coulda talked about it and _ohmygodI'msosorry_!"

I just wanted to walk away—I didn't want to yell at her; I didn't want to make things worse, not in front of her kids—but I forgot about the baby in my arms until I got to my feet. I looked down between Lee and Ella, debating on what to do. Lee was sleeping soundly, and Ella was crying. At that moment, I decided I'd rather take care of the infant than say one more word to my sister, so I turned on my heel and walked out of the nursery.

"Gari, wait!" Ella called after me, but I ignored her as I headed into Sam's room and locked the door behind me.

I sat down on the bed and curled my legs up under me, being careful not to jostle Lee too badly. _I'm not gonna cry. I'm not weak. I'm not weak like Ella. This isn't gonna make me cry. My entire world crashing down is_ not _gonna make me cry._ My body, however, disagreed, and I couldn't keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. _Well, I guess I know why Dean called me a monster. I_ killed _someone? An innocent someone? A_ kid _?! How many others did I kill?! What_ else _did I do?! Why the fuck would I_ do _that?! Why would I_ ever _get addicted to something like that?! Just because of a_ guy _?! Just because of_ Sam _?! What the fuck was_ wrong _with me?!_

"It doesn't fucking make _sense_!" I yelped, and I hurriedly pressed my lips together as I remembered I had Lee. I hadn't meant to say that out loud, but that didn't change anything. I'd heard that babies could easily pick up on the emotions of the people around them, even if they didn't understand the cause of those emotions yet, and it appeared to be true: Lee squirmed in my arms; then his face screwed up and he started bawling. _Oh, fuck. I'm so fucking_ stupid _!_

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," I tried, gently bouncing my arms up and down. "Shhh, hey, it's okay, it's okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you up. _Please_ go back to sleep, _please_." I repeated the words over and over, and, just when I thought that he would never stop crying, he hiccupped once and opened his eyes to stare up at me. "There we go," I said, a small smile crossing my face as I saw the Harken blue eyes blinking confusedly at the face that wasn't his mother's or father's. "Hey, there, little guy. Sorry I made you cry. I didn't mean for my problems to upset you. I guess I'm not as good at controlling my emotions as I should be." He made a weird, gurgling baby noise as he continued to stare at me, and I grinned wider. "Yeah, you're right; I guess we were never properly introduced, were we? Well, I'm your super cool aunt Gari. Garideth Leigh Vulcan. You're named after me—aren't you lucky?" Lee giggled and drool ran down his chin, and, instead of being grossed out like I thought I'd be, I ignored the drool and laughed back at him. "Yeah, that's right; I'm not that scary, am I? And you really don't give a rat's ass what I've done, do you? Oh, _shit_! I mean, ugh, sorry. I've really gotta work on my baby language. No more cussing, right? Don't wanna influence you to grow up to be mean."

Lee squirmed slightly in my arms, and I wondered how to make him more comfortable. Finally, I decided to just lay him down on the bed beside me. I placed a pillow on his other side so he wouldn't be able to roll away, and I curled up next to him with my head right above his. "I hope you don't mind that I took you away from your mom for a little bit," I said to him. "I just needed to get away. I've gotta think through some things, and I can't do it with her around." He made another strange noise, but this one sounded vaguely happy, and I took that as him saying he was okay with being with me for a little while.

"I just don't understand it," I said, realizing that voicing my thoughts aloud felt better than keeping it all inside. "I don't understand how I let myself get attached to anyone else—at least two people, too! And, I mean, Ella said something about your other namesake being like a second dad to me—or technically third, if you're counting my biological dad—or fourth, if you're counting Crowley… Ugh." I pressed my face into my pillow. "One thing at a time—I'll think about _that_ later. And there's also Kevin, who was at least attached to me, and not necessarily the other way around—and, honestly, I can see how I got attached to him since he's just a kid and I still wanna protect him after barely even knowing him. I may not feel all huggy and emotional, but I _do_ feel protective. I just don't want any more kids to end up like me…but it looks like it's too late for him."

I sighed. "I'm getting off-track. I've been avoiding thinking about _him_ , about your uncle, and it's kinda obvious, isn't it?" Lee gurgled at me again, and I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. I'm not very subtle. But, like, okay. From an objective perspective, I can see how I started liking the Winchesters—I can even see how I could be friends with them and how we could occasionally work together. I get that; it's plausible. They're surprisingly nice guys, and they know how to do their job, and they're absolutely nothing like their father, even though they're very much hunters. But…but _falling_ for one of them? _Really_?! That's f—I mean, that's _insane_!" I made a face as I almost cussed again. It wasn't like Lee could understand me—he was just a little baby—but it still made me feel weird, and I knew Ella wouldn't like it. "I mean, Ella and I had a deal, okay? No attachments—just salt, sex, and single-malt whiskey! Hell, she's the one that came up with the alliteration part!"

I frowned. "Is 'hell' a cuss word? Ah, hell, I dunno. Anyway, I guess, if I'm being totally honest with myself, I could've predicted Ella falling off the wagon, but I figured she would've gone for some normal guy who was understanding about the life but didn't want anything to do with it. I could even have called her quitting and having kids. But _me_?! I _love_ the job! I love the research and the fighting and the one-night-stands and the sense of accomplishment and heroism, even if I never get thanked for what I do! It's a thankless job, and somebody's got to do it, and that somebody has always been me, and I've always been happy with that! Ella and Greg were the only people I wanted to share it with, and I honestly would've been fine on my own once Ella settled down! But, apparently, I wasn't fine without _Sam fucking Winchester_?! I mean, how long did I even _know_ the guy before he died?! Like a _year_?! _Less_?! Certainly not long enough to fall in fucking _love_ with him, and certainly not to the point where I'd have ditched Ella and gotten addicted to fucking _demon blood_ when he died!" I was on a roll then, and I couldn't have stopped myself from cussing like a sailor even if I'd wanted to. Thankfully, Lee was just watching me and showing no sign of being upset, so I wasn't too worried about him—I had other things to worry about at that point, anyway.

"And don't even get me started on the demon blood thing! That's fucking _ridiculous_! Who the _fuck_ gets addicted to demon blood, of all things?! It's not like something you can buy off some creepy guy on a street corner! You have to fucking confront demons for that shit! And make the conscious decision to _drink their fucking blood_ rather than just fucking _kill_ them! Who the fuck _does_ that?!" I sneered in disgust. "Apparently, me and Sam fucking Winchester do that, that's who! I feel like a freak, like a _monster_ , just like Dean said, and I don't even remember being addicted! I don't remember hunting down demons; I don't remember draining their vessels; I don't remember _killing a fucking kid_! And I'm guessing Dean locked me in whatever fucking panic room Sam was telling me about to detox me or what the fuck ever, and I don't remember _that_ , either, and—" I broke off suddenly, one hand brushing against one of the scars on my face and the other tracing the lattice-like pattern on my stomach. "Was that where I got all of these?" I continued quietly, lifting up the edge of my shirt to stare at the destroyed skin. "Sam said I was without my powers for a while; is _that_ what happened in the panic room? Did I lose my powers? _All_ of them? Is that another thing I can't remember?"

"I just wanna know what's going on," I continued, all of my anger and panic fading into a sort of numb resignation. Lee picked up on my newly calm mood, and his eyelids fluttered sleepily. I curled tighter around him and brushed my lips against the dark blonde peach fuzz on the top of his head. "I just wanna know about those ten years, especially the most recent ones. I just wanna know how I died and how I came back. I just wanna know who _did_ this to me." I squeezed my eyes closed and swallowed hard as tears clogged my throat and pricked at my eyes again. "I just wanna go back to how things were," I choked out, feeling just as lost and helpless and confused as I had since the moment I came back to life.

The utter exhaustion of the day paired with Lee's soft, sighing snores finally swept over me, and I fell asleep with my body wrapped protectively around my fragile little nephew whose existence I still couldn't bring myself to believe in.


	7. I Don't Belong to You

I never thought I'd say it, but the kids had been my solace for the past few days. Ella and I hadn't really talked since our fight, and, since I didn't really know anyone in Abbeville nor have anything else to do, I stuck to babysitting my niece and nephews. Surprisingly, I was pretty good at it. The twins really liked me, and Lee was a generally content and quiet baby, so my job was easy.

The only thing that had thrown me was when Johnny had called me "G." I understood, of course, that kids had a harder time saying full words and that the twins wouldn't know how I felt about that nickname, but it still caught me off-guard.

"G? G? G, whassa matter?" Johnny asked me worriedly, placing his tiny hand on my knee. Lee squirmed in my arms, picking up on my unease, and that finally snapped me out of it. "What'd I do?" Johnny continued, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to cry.

"Nothing, kid!" I assured him hurriedly. "I'm sorry; I overreacted. I don't really get called 'G' anymore."

"Am I in trouble?"

"No, no, you're fine! It's okay!" I smiled at the boy, trying to mask my lingering discomfort. "You're not in trouble. I'm sorry." The next words left my mouth without my permission: "Keep calling me G. I'll get used to it." That time, I shocked myself. _What the hell? Did I really just say that?_ I bit my lip as I tried to sort through my emotions. _…And I think I really meant it. I mean, it_ is _easier for them. And "G" is just a natural shortening of my already shortened name…and it's easier to use monosyllabic nicknames, anyway. Plus, they're just kids. It's not like I'm about to let Ella and the Winchesters start calling me that._

Once I'd calmed myself down, I resumed rocking back and forth in the chair in the nursery, and I smiled as Lee's eyes slid closed once more and his cute little snores started up again. Right when I was finally completely relaxed, my phone vibrated, and I resisted the urge to groan. I carefully reached into my back pocket, trying my hardest not to jostle the now-sleeping baby, and I checked the notification on the front of the screen.

Modern cell phones were still weird to me, especially since they could do pretty much the exact same thing as a regular computer and the internet just kind of naturally came with them. I did find them useful for cases, however. I'd been playing around with the internet and looking for any kind of job nearby when I'd discovered how to set my phone to alert me of any deaths that showed up in the news within a five hour drive from Abbeville. For the past few days, I'd been getting notifications about elderly people dying in their sleep, but this one was different. It said that, the day before, a pile of unspecified innards had been found next to a river about half an hour out of town off a road that was semi-famous for disappearances. Using DNA from the remains, the cops had identified it as a local college girl, and, apparently, she wasn't the first to have gone missing in that area—she was just the first to have sort of turned up again.

 _Sounds like a kelpie. Good. That's super fresh in my mind. Should be a piece of cake. And a solo hunt is_ definitely _what I need right now._ I looked down at the baby in my arms. _I'll wait until he's had time to get all deep-sleepy; then I'll pack my bags and go. I can just leave Ella a note, right? I'd really rather not talk to her. I know she'll try to stop me from going out on my own, but she can't leave her kids—and I don't want her to come—and there's no way I'm waiting around for the Winchesters to get back. People are dying, and I don't need their help, anyway._

My mind was made up, so I waited patiently until I was sure that Lee was fast asleep, laid him down in his crib, placed a quick kiss on Johnny's and Sami's heads, then hurried back to Sam's room to pack. _I'm gonna have to steal Greg's car_ , I realized. _There's no way I can get there on my own, and I don't have the patience for hitchhiking. Ugh, Ella's not gonna be happy about that. At least the Winchesters should be back soon, so she won't be_ totally _stranded here. Plus, this'll probably take me two or three days at the_ most _, and, if it takes more than that, I deserve to be eaten by that kelpie._

At first I'd been scared that I wouldn't have any weapons and would have to scrounge up some silver bullets on my own, but, after rummaging through every piece of furniture in the room, I finally found a box of silver bullets and the pistol to match in the top drawer of the night stand. _Paranoid much, Sammy?_ I shoved the gun in the waistband of my jeans after checking that it was loaded; then I tossed the extra bullets into my bag and headed for the door.

I'd noticed my first day here that there was a small marker-board right beside the front door, and I'd figured that it was for messages like the one that I was about to write. I scribbled a quick note to Ella, telling her that I'd be back in a few days and not to worry; then, after checking to see that she was still napping on the couch where I'd last seen her, I quietly shut the front door behind me, jumped into Greg's Impala, and sped off.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So who was the missing girl?" I asked the young Stateburg policeman.

"Her name was Jane McCollum. She was, uh…she was my cousin's best friend," he replied sadly, and I wondered if there was a little more to that story. "Known each other since preschool. Town like this, we kinda know everyone. Hell, I used to babysit 'em both when I was in high school."

I nodded in understanding. "Did your cousin go to school with Jane?"

"They were roommates. Have been for three years."

"So that makes them juniors, right? At USC, I'm guessing?" I'd done my research on the town right after checking into my hotel two hours before, so most of the information I'd gathered about Stateburg, South Carolina was pretty fresh in my mind—including the fact that it was less than an hour from Columbia, the capitol of South Carolina and home to the Carolina Gamecocks college football team. Apparently, that was some kind of a big deal, for even the police officer had a USC mug sitting on his desk.

"Yeah, Columbia's not too far from here, so a lot of the local kids end up goin' there. I'm an alumnus, myself." _Which would further explain the mug._

"Um, would you mind giving me your cousin's name? I just need to ask her a few questions, make sure there's no one she knows that would've hurt Jane."

The officer nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. Kirsten Williams. That's her. She's home for the weekend, lives at 124 Fort Sullivan Circle. Phil and Mary—her parents—they're probably there, too."

"Thanks, Officer…" I looked at his nametag for the first time, and I could've kicked myself for being so oblivious. "…Williams. Of course. Sorry."

He shrugged. "Phil's my first cousin. If you wouldn't mind, tell 'em Brian says hey, alright?"

"Gotcha. Thanks again." I turned away, but Officer Williams called me back.

"Hey, Detective Jones?" he said slowly, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "Ya got any idea what'd do that to a girl? Just gut her and leave her intestines behind?"

I blinked rapidly, trying not to show my shock. _Intestines? But kelpies leave livers. So do_ each uisge _. Ugh. Back to the drawing board, I guess._ "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

"There's some sick people out in this world, Detective," Williams said, casting his eyes toward the ground. "If ya find 'em, give 'em an extra kick for me, ya hear?"

"I'll find whoever did this, Officer," I promised sincerely. "And I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I'd go out there with ya if I could," he said, looking a little uncomfortable for some reason, "but, uh, I got lots of paperwork to do after Janie's murder and all. But gimme a call if ya need me for anythin'. And thanks."

I forced a kind smile. "Just doing my job." Before he could say anything else, I swept out of the police station and hurried back to Greg's car. "Ah, _fuck_ , I need a drink," I muttered to myself before sliding into the driver's side. "But, first, I gotta visit Kirsten Williams."

My phone rang as I was pulling out of the parking lot, and I rolled my eyes at Ella's name on the caller ID. She started firing questions at me before I could so much as tell her hello. "What the hell d'ya think you're doin'?" her loud, Southern twang blared in my ear. "You're not ready to hunt on your own, and ya know it! Just 'cause we're fightin' doesn't mean ya gotta go off and be all stupid! Where the hell are ya, anyway? 'Cause I'm comin' down there just as soon as I find a goddamn babysitter! I cannot _believe_ you, Gari! I thought ya had more sense than—"

"I'm not telling you where I am, Elle, because you don't need to come after me," I interrupted. "It's one tiny little hunt, something to help me clear my head and get back in the saddle without the Winchesters there as training wheels. _"_

"You're bein' so _stupid_!" she ranted. "If this is about our fight, then—"

"Only a little, okay? Like I said, I just need to clear my head so when I get back, we can talk instead of yell. I wasn't ready to talk yet, and I think this hunt might help. I need to get back into the swing of things, into normal hunts—not demons and angels and prophets and gods. I need to _save_ people again, Ella," I said pleadingly. "After what we let happen to Kevin and his mom… I just gotta make sure I can still save _someone_."

She was quiet on the other line, so quiet that I thought I'd dropped her call for a minute. When she finally spoke, she was soft and sad. "Okay, sis, I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. Just know that, even with what happened to the Trans, ya can still save people. They're both still alive, and that's gotta count for somethin', right?"

"You didn't see Mrs. Tran, Elle," I said, remembering the vacant look on the older woman's face. "It was like she'd been lobotomized. I dunno how anyone can come back from that, and it's our fault for not keeping a better eye on her and her son in the first place. And now we don't even know where they are—Crowley could have Kevin again, for all we know. But since I've got no leads on him, I'm gonna do what I do best and kill some fucking monsters."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Like I said, I get it. Just get back safe, alright? And, uh… I'm sorry, Gari. I really didn't mean to—"

"We'll talk when we get back," I broke in again. "This is an in-person conversation. I'll be back in a few days, and we can fight more then."

She snorted into the phone. "Yeah, sure. So where'd ya say ya are again?"

"Uh-uh. You're not coming out here. I'll tell you about it when I'm done. I'll see you soon, Elle." Then, before she could protest, I hung up on her.

 _Alright. 124 Fort Sullivan Circle. Let's do this._ I put the car into gear and headed off to find Kirsten Williams. It took me ten minutes to get there, and I parked in front of a big, white, two-story house, kind of like the old plantation houses I'd seen back in Abbeville. _These guys must be loaded. Wonder why the hell they chose to live_ here _, of all places._

After straightening my pencil skirt and making sure my hair was still smoothed back into its sleek ponytail, I approached the front door. A man in his fifties opened the door before I could even lift my hand to knock, and I gave him an awkward grin. "Detective Jones?" he said, and I nodded slowly, feeling a little confused. "Brian—uh, Officer Williams called and told me you were coming," he explained.

 _Oh…_ "Well, that was nice of him," I replied.

"We try to keep tabs on our family 'round here." Phil Williams' voice was a little too harsh when he said that, and I wondered if maybe the reason Officer Williams hadn't followed me out here was because of some family argument.

"That's great; it makes my job easier. May I come in?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Mr. Williams stepped to the side and let me in; then he closed the door behind me and led me into a lavishly furnished living room that looked like it had never been touched. _I bet they have maids. Like, at least two._ "Can I get ya anythin' to drink? Lemonade, sweet tea…?"

I shook my head and smiled politely. "I'd just like to talk to your daughter, if you don't mind."

"Yes, right… I'll go get her." I nodded at him, and he scampered off. A minute later, he came back into the living room with his wife and daughter in tow. I stood up as he introduced us. "This is my wife, Mary, and my daughter, Kirsten. We'll answer any questions ya have."

"Actually, I'd like to talk to Kirsten alone," I informed him.

Phil and Mary shared a look while Kirsten kept her eyes on the ground. "Detective Jones," Mary said, "we'd really feel better if we could stay with her. She's been through a lot, y'know, and she's not really feelin' all that well, bless her heart."

"I understand, Mrs. Williams; I really do. But for me to do my job properly, I have to talk to Kirsten alone. She's a legal adult and doesn't have to have the two of you there with her in situations like this." I glanced at Kirsten, who was still staring at the floor. "Of course, if she wants you to stay and promises to be completely honest, I suppose I can—"

" _No_!" Kirsten's head shot up at that, and she blanched as she realized her outburst. "I mean…uh, no. It's fine."

"Now, just wait a minute!" Phil said angrily. "You're already scarin' her, see? She doesn't needa be alone with ya!"

 _Okay, nice and patient was never my forte._ "Listen, Phil—can I call you Phil?" I continued before he could stop me. "Your daughter can maybe help me solve the murder case of her best friend, which can in turn help me solve the murder cases that have been turning your little town into even more of a waste of space than it was before. Now, if there's something she doesn't want the two of you to know but thinks it will help me, she needs to not be afraid to say it. So that means that you two can wait ten short little minutes while your daughter and I have a little chat. Got a problem with that?"

Mary stared at me bewilderedly while Phil gaped at me like a fish. "Well, I _never_ ," Mary said with her hand clutched to her chest, but that didn't stop her from walking away. "C'mon, Phil. We're _clearly_ not welcome here."

" _Clearly_ ," I agreed, and Phil glared at me as he walked out of the room. I turned back to Kirsten to see that she was suppressing a grin. When she met my eye, however, she withdrew back in on herself and sank into one of the many armchairs in the room. "I'm sorry I had to be rude to your parents," I said as I sat down across from her. Then I shrugged. "Well, actually I'm not. I'm here to get my job done, and the quicker I can do that, the better."

A fleeting grin crossed Kirsten's face again, and she nodded. "I get it. They're always in the way, anyway. Been that way since I was little. What d'ya wanna know?"

"Whatever it is that you're afraid to say in front of them."

"Oh," she frowned. "That." I waited as patiently as I could for her to speak; I could tell that whatever she was going to say had to be bothering her, and I didn't want to scare her into not talking. "Me and Janie've been neck-and-neck for the smartest in our grade since middle school," she said finally. "She beat me by less than half a point to be valedictorian, but she's got stage fright real bad, so I made the speech. She thought it was a good compromise, 'specially since I'd been writing valedictorian speeches since fifth grade." A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "She always called me a nerd, but she never meant it 'cause she knew she was just as bad as me." I gave her a soft smile in return, hoping to encourage her to continue. "So, naturally, we both made it into the Honors College at USC…and then we both dropped out. We decided we didn't really care all that much 'bout our grades as long as we graduated—what's that sayin'? 'C's get degrees?'—so we lied to our parents and used our free time to hit up the local bars, like college kids do, y'know?"

"Do they still think you're in the Honors College?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"Brian—Officer Williams—he told 'em right after he found Janie. He'd been keepin' our secret—he's always been like a brother to me, and I think he wanted to be a little more to Janie—but, once she turned up dead, he spilled the beans. Course, they got mad at him instead of me—I think they knew for a while, but they don't like thinkin' I can do any wrong. I'm their golden child, and that's all they want me to be. They still dunno what we were doin' instead of goin' to class, and I don't think they _wanna_ know. Janie's parents cut her off and moved across the country soon as we went to college—they never got on real well, and I kinda think she was relieved to see 'em go—I haven't even heard from 'em since we got the news. Don't even know where they are. I think that's part of the reason she dropped out, though: she kept up her grades all those years to try to gain her parents' approval, so when they moved away, she just…gave up. She got real bad into drugs her freshman year, but I helped her through it and we just did a lot of drinkin' and stuff after that."

"You're sure she stopped doing drugs?"

Kirsten nodded. "Positive. She wanted me to help her—even made me do a sweep of our room every now and then." She almost laughed. "She was so determined 'bout everythin'…includin' goin' after guys."

"What d'you mean?"

"She went through boys real fast—not sayin' that it was a bad thing—she'd always been a flirt; she just actually went through with all her flirtin' after we went to USC. If she set her sights on someone, she was gonna get him. The latest one was a new bartender that just started at Group Therapy 'bout a month ago, said his parents were from Scotland or somethin' like that but he'd been livin' in the States since he was five and didn't even have an accent anymore. He was _real_ pretty, kinda model-lookin', and he was real nice, too, but he dressed different than the college boys, and that's one of the things that drew Janie to him—she hated all the frat boys' clothes. She had a thing about how people dressed. He was older, too, maybe late twenties?"

 _Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!_ "And what was this guy's name?"

"Niles somethin'." She shrugged. "Can't remember his last name. It was weird, though—Scottish, I guess."

"Anything else you can think of?" I pressed. "Strange vibes you got off Niles, weird behavior from Jane, anything like that?"

"Niles was real nice—he's the one who told the police she was missin'. He noticed before me. Some friend I am," she said miserably.

"So he was with her the night she disappeared?"

Kirsten shrugged again. "I-I dunno. I hadn't really seen her in 'bout a week." She refused to meet my eye, and I knew that there was something she wasn't telling me.

"Kirsten, you can tell me anything," I said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her knee. "I need to know whatever it is you're keeping from me so that I can catch whoever did this."

"I think she was on drugs again," Kirsten mumbled finally. "I found a bag of pills under her bed—she still had me keep up the room sweep even after two years—and she walked in right when I found 'em. She freaked out, started screamin' at me for goin' through her stuff and actin' like her mom and she said she didn't even know why she was friends with me in the first place when I treated her like a kid and then she grabbed some clothes and left and—and then B-Brian called me and—" She broke off as she suppressed a sob. "The last thing I said to her was that I treated her like a kid 'cause she acted like one and that I was tired of tryin' to help her out. I went online that night and posted an ad for a sublease 'cause I didn't wanna live with her anymore. A-and now I c-can't 'cause s-she's—" Kirsten pressed a hand to her mouth as she continued to cry, and I patted her knee awkwardly. "I-I'm sorry," she sniffled after a minute. "I don't think it really sank in until just now. I haven't really cried yet and… I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, Kirsten," I assured her. "Thank you for telling me all of this, and I'm sorry for your loss."

She nodded and gave me a teary-eyed smile. "Thanks, Detective Jones."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Columbia, South Carolina was quickly becoming my least favorite place. The traffic was awful, the parking was over-priced, and the entire city was about fifteen degrees warmer than the rest of the state because of all of the pavement. Seriously, I'd been in the city for an hour and hadn't seen one unpaved area the whole time. After spending way too much time on finding a parking spot and way too much money on paying for it, I was finally walking through the door of Group Therapy, the bar where this Niles guy apparently worked. I was there at five o'clock on a Thursday, so the place was pretty dead, which actually helped me a little. There were maybe six people total in the entire place, including the lone bartender—a group of four college kids sat at a table in the corner, while an older guy nursed what looked like a tonic and gin at the end of the bar.

I slid onto a bar stool a few seats down from the older guy and waited patiently for the bartender to turn around, wondering if this was Niles. When he finally looked up, I knew instantly why Jane McCollum had gone for him. I'd thought Sam and Dean were gorgeous—and they were—but this guy could almost compete. He had sandy blond hair swept back into an effortlessly messy bun at the nape of his neck (Ella told me that it had become increasingly popular for guys to wear buns nowadays, but this guy was the first one I'd seen that could pull it off) and his clear blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he met my gaze and smiled a dimpled grin. I blinked a few times to snap myself out of it and forced a semi-stern expression back on my face.

"What can I get for you, sweetheart?" the guy said in a strangely accent-free voice: no Southern or Scottish, despite where he lived now and his supposed origins.

I crossed my arms up on the counter and raised my eyebrows at him, unimpressed by the stereotypical pet name. "Are you Niles?" I asked, getting straight to business.

"That I am," he said with a grin. "Niles Pottinger, at your service. And you are?"

"Jessica Jones," I replied, and I flashed my fake badge at him. " _Detective_ Jessica Jones."

"Ah." His grin faded slightly. "How can I help you, Detective? Is this about Jane?"

"It is. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind." I shrugged and amended myself. "Well, I'm going to ask you a few questions regardless. It really doesn't matter if you mind."

"Anything I can do to help. What would you like to know?"

"I heard that you were the one who found what was left of her body."

"I-I didn't know it was her at first, not until the DNA tests came back. I was just out for my morning run when I saw… _her_." He made a face, looking troubled at the memory.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"The night before. We were, uh… I guess you could say we were seeing each other? We had been meeting up for about a week. She came to me that night and said she and Kirsten—her roommate—they got in a fight and she needed a place to stay. I tried to calm her down and she ran off. And then the next morning, well…" He frowned. "You know the rest."

"And how would you say your relationship with Jane was?"

He scoffed then gave me an apologetic look when he realized how that came across. "I wouldn't say it was a relationship. We were just having sex. She didn't ever act like she wanted anything more, and I was happy with it. I've been with a few girls since moving here, and all of them tried to pressure me into something I didn't want. Janie was different. She just wanted to have a good time."

I nodded—I understood Jane all too well. Before Greg had died, I was in that stage, too. And before _I_ had died—at least, before my memory was wiped—I'd gotten a little reckless while wanting to have a "good time." Thankfully, dying had almost seemed to get me past that phase. "So your name's unique," I said conversationally. "Definitely not American. Where are you from?"

"My parents are from Orkney," he replied. "It's off the coast of Scotland—totally different accent and culture, though, which no one seems to realize. We moved to America when I was five, so my accent faded. And we've moved all over the place since. I rarely ever stay in a place more than a few months at a time since I've stopped living with them—this is just my most recent stop." Niles gave me a knowing look. "I'd say you can relate to that."

I forced a hopefully convincing smile. "Yeah, well, the job never lets me stay in one place for too long. Work is never over, y'know?"

"Not even for one night?" he asked. "Let me get you a drink—on the house." I couldn't tell if he was being flirty or just being nice, but, either way, a drink sounded great. "What would you like?"

"Your strongest whiskey," I answered seriously.

"As a shot?"

I laughed derisively. "I'd say gimme the bottle if I didn't think you'd judge me."

"Well, aren't you a tough one?" he joked, letting out a strangely musical laugh of his own as he grabbed a bottle and a glass. I noticed an odd-looking bracelet braided around his wrist; it looked like it was made of some sort of weed, but I figured it had to be hemp or something like that. I made a mental note to ask him about it later as I tried not to check him out while he had his back turned to me.

Right as he was pushing the glass toward me, my phone vibrated in my jacket pocket, signaling a text message. _"Sam's on his way to you,"_ the message said, and I saw that it was from Dean. _"Tried to stop him. Hard to fight him & Ella at the same time. Thought you should know."_

I sighed and dropped my head into my hand. "Is there a problem, sweetheart?" Niles asked me curiously.

I turned back the glass of whiskey and gulped it down quickly, letting out a breath as the welcome burn hit my throat. "Looks like I was right: work is _never_ over. I've got a lead on Jane. Thanks for your cooperation," I told him. " _And_ your whiskey. Don't skip town yet—I may have more questions depending on how this goes."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Niles said. "I hope you find whoever did this and make them pay."

"You and me both."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I had debated switching hotels, but I knew that Sam would find me regardless. He didn't get to be one of the best hunters in the business for no reason. _I bet he used that necklace I gave Ella._ I frowned down at the one around my neck. _If I'm gonna be going off on my own, I've gotta remember to get rid of this thing._

Instead, I just went back to my hotel and changed out of my professional clothes. I took a shower while I waited for Sam, and I still had time to get dressed, tie my hair up in a messy bun, and start researching water spirits that left intestines behind instead of livers. I'd ventured deep into the internet and finally found a few leads when I heard something that sounded like a lock-pick rustling around in the lock on my door.

I rolled my eyes and unlocked the door; then I propped up against the doorframe and fixed Sam with an exasperated expression as I opened the door for him. "Y'know, breaking and entering is illegal," I said. "And I'm a fake detective. I could send you to jail."

Sam shrugged guiltily as he straightened up. "Sorry, I didn't know you were here."

I nodded my head at Greg's Impala, which could be clearly seen from my room. "Right."

He sighed. "Alright, I just didn't think you'd let me in if you knew it was me."

"Dean gave me a heads-up," I told him. "I already knew you were coming, no matter how much it annoyed me. I figured I should just put up with it."

"Of _course_ he told you." Sam shook his head. "Why didn't you run?"

"I'm not gonna leave this town while there are still innocent people dying—how I feel about you doesn't change that," I said firmly. "I'm gonna do my job regardless."

"Huh. Okay."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "That's it?"

"Yeah?"

"Huh. _Okay_ ," I copied him, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Alright, get it off your chest," he said. "Just c'mon, lemme have it."

"I've got nothing to say to you," I told him.

" _Riiight_."

"No, really, 'cause if I wanna get this job done, I can't say shit to you 'cause then I'll go into rage mode for a couple of hours and we'll get nowhere."

"Okay, see, now _that_ makes sense."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "The more you talk to me, the harder it is to stop myself from yelling. So I'm gonna tell you what I've learned so far since you decided not to stalk me until _after_ most of the work was done, and then we're gonna find out what the fuck this thing is and kill it so I can get away from you. But, y'know, _that_ probably won't work, since you'll probably just get Ella to track me down again."

He watched me silently, as if waiting for an explosion, and, of course, that caused one to happen. "Seriously, Sam, what the _fuck_?! _Why_ d'you think I went off on my own?! Did you think I _wanted_ you to follow me?! Seriously, _what_ part of that 'I can handle it' note I left for Ella did not make sense to you?! Let me clear it up for you now so this won't happen again: I _do not_ want to be around you. I _do not_ want to be around your brother, or even Ella right now, for that matter—oh, and, by the way, thanks for telling me that I was a demon blood junkie and my body looks like a volleyball net because of some weird-ass detox that drained me of my powers; that was _really_ nice of you—" Sam's eyes grew wide with fear at those words, which gave me a sick sort of satisfaction. "—so, seriously, why won't you just leave me the _fuck_ alone?!"

"Look, Gari, I was gonna tell you about the demon blood," he said desperately, taking one step toward me and causing me to take two steps back. "I really was; I just didn't—"

"Didn't think I could _handle_ it?!" I guessed. "Well, y'know, it kinda sucked figuring it out for myself once Ella practically _screamed_ at me that I was a fucking _monster_!"

He shook his head quickly. "No, you _know_ she didn't say that. Out of everyone, Ella's the last person who would _ever_ call you a monster, no matter what you did." A guilty look crossed his face so fleetingly that I might have imagined it, and then he continued. "And, yeah, okay, you're right: I _didn't_ think you could handle it, especially not after how big of a blow finding out about Crowley was to you. I was gonna tell you; I just wanted to give you time to get used to everything first. And then you kissed me and freaked out and started avoiding me, so I _couldn't_ tell you."

My face flushed as he brought up the kiss. "Look, I'm sorry about that, okay?" I muttered. "I shouldn't have done that; I was upset and just wanted comfort, and I shouldn't have taken it from you."

"Gari, you _know_ I don't mind; you _know_ that's what I'm here for. All I wanna do is help you through this." When I met his gaze, I could see in his eyes that he really meant it. He really wanted nothing more than to help me. _No, help_ her _,_ I thought suddenly. _He wants nothing more than to help_ his _Gari, the person he wants me to be._

 _Or is that really it? Is he really just such a compassionate person that he doesn't care? But the way he looks at me…it's like he thinks that I still know him, even though I don't. I know he doesn't mean to put this pressure on me, but I can't handle it. There are so many expectations from him and Dean and Ella, and I'm still just a broken shell of what I used to be before Greg died. I haven't had time to adjust, and I don't know if I can with him constantly around and worrying about me. I don't wanna be alone, but I don't wanna deal with the stress of trying to be someone I'm not._

"Look, I'm trying to get used to you; I really am," I said finally, feeling obligated to give some sort of explanation for my behavior but not knowing exactly how to get all of my thoughts out. "But you're still a stranger to me. You're still just another random guy, and you still keep thinking or maybe hoping that I'm the same person you knew when I'm _not_."

A look of confusion crossed Sam's face. "What d'you mean?"

"The way you look at me, the way you treat me—like I'm someone else and not just this shattered, lost little girl—it's bullshit!" I exclaimed. "Because I _am_ shattered, I _am_ lost! I'm still mourning a death that happened eleven years ago and I'm trying to atone for things I can't remember and I just don't think I can ever get past it!"

"That doesn't matter," Sam promised. "I can help you through it—I can do whatever you need me to do."

" _No_ , that's not—" I broke off with a groan of frustration, and I ran my hands through my hair. "I'm not _her_ , Sam; I'm never gonna be _her_! You keep hoping that something's gonna click and I'm gonna be her again, but it's not gonna happen!"

"I don't care about that—you're still you; you're still a part of this family whether you like it or not, and I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or something, but _nothing's_ gonna change that. Gari, I lo—I care about you a lot," he amended, a panicked look in his eyes at the word he'd almost said, "whether or not you remember it, and I wanna be here for you."

He kept looking at me with that earnest, sad, puppy-eyed expression and it was making me sick. He cared too much—he didn't understand—I couldn't deal with it any longer. "I'm not _yours_ , Sam!" I exploded, and the lights in the room shattered, plunging us into near-darkness. He didn't even flinch, and that infuriated me even more. "You keep looking at me like a kicked puppy and speaking all soft and sweet and trying to protect me and _I can't take it anymore_!" I ranted. "I am _not yours_! I don't love you—hell, I don't even _know_ you—so you need to _back the fuck off_!"

I was expecting quiet submission—from what I'd learned about Sam so far, he usually took a calmer and more rational approach, especially when it came to dealing with me. I was surprised and almost pleased, however, when anger flashed across his face and his eyes narrowed, their hazel color deepening to a dark brown. For once, he was going to fight back.

"You think I don't _know_ that?!" he snapped. "Gari, that's _literally_ all I can think about! You don't remember me—you don't even really _like_ me—and I dunno how the hell to deal with that! I can't keep up with anything you do—you're completely fine one minute, and the next you're freaking out and—and blowing up light bulbs! You're worse than you were the first time we met, and I dunno what to do, _okay_?! I wanna help you—not because I want things to go back to the way they were, but I'm not gonna pretend I don't—but because I'm _worried_ about you! We're _all_ worried about you! You're miserable, you're in pain, and I _hate_ seeing you like this!" The fire slowly faded from his eyes, and he dropped his gaze, looking ashamed of his outburst. "I just wanna help," he said quietly.

A surge of sympathy and regret rose up in me, and I groaned again and covered my face with my hands. "I don't like _feeling_ like this," I mumbled, and I wasn't totally sure I'd meant to say that out loud.

He hesitated a moment then asked, "Feeling like what?"

"Like—like _everything_ ," I said vaguely. He didn't speak, and the words flowed out of my mouth against my will. "I don't like feeling bad for you," I said, my face still in my hands. "I don't like feeling sorry when I'm mean. I don't like feeling out-of-place all the time or like I'm gonna explode if I stay around anyone for more than a few hours. I don't like feeling miserable twenty-four/seven or like Greg died a year ago when it was really _eleven_ years ago." I let out a deep, long breath. "And I _hate_ that I'm getting attached to you, that I can't fucking hate you no matter how hard I try." I looked up at him then, and I couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Why d'you wanna hate me so much?" he asked finally, sounding more curious than offended. I could feel my wall sliding back into place, and I could tell he'd sensed it, too, for he hurriedly said, "I just wanna understand what you're going through. I promise I'll back off if you answer."

I sighed in defeat. "I don't like getting attached," I said, and the look on his face begged for an explanation. "I've loved two people my entire life," I continued. "One of them died, and I still can't get over it. If something happens to Ella…" I shook my head rapidly—I didn't even want to think about it. "And I can't do that again. The more people I care about, the easier it is to hurt me. I keep pushing you away because…" I trailed off, unwilling to say more, but his wide, pleading eyes spurred me on. "Because I know how easy it would be for me to get attached to you, and I don't wanna risk it. I _can't_ risk it, Sam—I-I just _can't_. I can't go through this again." I didn't know why I was trying so hard to defend myself—there was no judgment in his eyes, just understanding and acceptance and sadness. "I can't handle the pain again."

He took a step toward me, and, since it seemed almost subconscious this time, I resisted the urge to back away. "Isn't it worth it, though?" he said quietly.

I frowned and shook my head. " _No_ , it's _not_ —how could anything be worth _that_?!"

"So you'd rather never have met Greg and Ella?"

" _No_ , I—" I stopped myself, unsure of what to say.

"Gari, you knew him for four whole years," Sam said. "He saved your life, and you saved his. You'd really give that up?"

"I-I… _ugh_." I hid my face again, trying to hold back tears. _I'm not_ _gonna cry. I'm_ not _gonna cry. Not again. Not in front of_ him _._

"And what about Ella?" he pressed. "She's your _sister_. D'you really wish you'd never met her?" He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and gently pulled my hands away from my face. He kept his hold on my wrists as he gazed down at me. "Well? _Do_ you?"

"N-no," I said at last, staring down at our hands. "No. I don't."

"Then how can you say that it's not worth it?"

I looked up at him then, and I was surprised at how close he was. If I lifted up on my toes, our lips would just touch. He'd wrap his arms around me and hold me there, and I'd forget all of my worries and doubts for a while. My eyes flicked up to his nervously, and they were warm and full of what I thought might be love.

With a jolt, I came back to my senses, and I pried my hands out of his grasp. "I'm sorry, Sam," I said softly, and a part of me meant it. "But I can't risk it." I chanced a look at his face one more time before hurrying out of the hotel room, and I could feel his defeated and heartbroken gaze follow me out the door.


	8. You and I'll Just Use a Little Patience

It wasn't until I was sitting in Greg's car that I realized I'd kicked myself out of my own hotel room. _I could've made Sam leave! I could've told him to get the fuck out! Ugh, why am I so stupid?_ Now I couldn't go back because he would be there. I didn't even know if he'd bothered to get another hotel room for himself— _Maybe he was just planning on driving to Stateburg and checking on me and then turning around and going back to Abbeville._ I snorted at that thought. _Yeah, right. He's totally here because they think I can't do this on my own. They think I'm too mentally young and too inexperienced after being in the ground for a year and not remembering all the things I've learned. Well, joke's on them because water spirits were a big thing of mine, and after the research I went through while waiting for Sam, I have enough info to at least get me started on taking this thing down. All water spirits are vulnerable to silver, and I've got a gun full of silver bullets shoved in my belt. This should be no problem, even if it isn't a kelpie like I first thought._

With that thought in mind, I cranked up Greg's car and headed for Columbia, hell-bent on killing a water spirit and proving myself to the Winchesters and Ella.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

This time when I went to Group Therapy, the place was packed. All of the tables were filled with college kids, and two young waitresses in casual t-shirts and shorts bounced around between them, looking flustered and like they regretted their choice in part-time job. Niles was nowhere to be found, but two mildly attractive bartenders were in his place, flirting with the college girls and boys who drunkenly leaned across the bar. I pushed my way through the throng and managed to find one empty barstool in beside two cute blondes who were flirting shamelessly with the tattooed girl serving them drinks.

"Liv picks up all of the girls," a somewhat familiar, mischievous voice said from behind me, and I turned to see Niles giving me his charming grin. "You've no idea how many times we've thrown off each other's game."

I did a quick once-over of Liv, deciding that I definitely liked what I saw, before I more slowly checked out Niles. "I dunno," I said, "I can hazard a guess. I mean, if she showed interest in me, I'd probably blow you off, too."

"Well, y'know, that must mean that you're at least a little tempted by me, yeah?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe a little."

"Then let's go somewhere that Liv can't tempt you, too," he said deviously.

"What, like to another bar? I'm kinda casing the joint."

He laughed as he lead me towards a back corner of the bar that held a mercifully empty booth. I noticed that the door of the bar was still in view, which I appreciated. I may have been flirting a lot, but I was still trying to do my job, and I needed to keep an eye on whoever walked in. "I was just thinking somewhere a little more private. The atmosphere in here is too good to get away from."

"I'll say. I can see why so many college kids come here. I certainly would've."

"So you're casing the joint?" Niles said conversationally as we slid into opposite sides of the booth. "Which means you're still on the clock?"

"Unless there's a good enough reason for me not to be," I said, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

He grinned. "I can think of a few, but how about I start by buying you a drink?"

I smirked back at him. "Buy me two or three, and then we'll talk."

He laughed as he got up and headed back to the bar, and I took that chance to check my phone. There were three missed calls from Sam and five text messages, all saying things like, " _Where the hell are you?!"_ and _"Don't do anything stupid!"_ and _"Can we please just talk about this?!"_ I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone back into my jacket pocket. I'd come on this hunt alone, and I intended to finish it alone, too. The fact that Sam was so worried just made me want to prove myself further.

I absentmindedly watched Niles joke around with Liv as he ordered our drinks, and I thought about how much easier it was to talk to him than Sam, even if I'd just interrogated and flirted with him a little. _And besides the fact he's almost definitely some sort of water spirit that's eating people._ Even so, there were no complications when flirting with Niles. With Sam, I had too much fun making him blush and he could so easily affect me, too. There was the shadow of our past constantly making things awkward—even when I was just joking with him, he would get this sad look on his face and leave me wondering what I'd done to upset him. I hated that his feelings were starting to bother me. Everything that I'd told him in our fight had been true, and, after I'd told him, I'd started hating myself even more for being so mean to him.

Logically, I knew that my feelings weren't something I had any control over. I'd gone through a lot of shit, and I had every right to be feeling confused and scared. But Sam had also gone through so much because of me—not just because of my death, but because of how I'd been treating him since I got back. I knew that he just wanted to help, and I knew that he would've wanted to help even if I'd been a random stranger instead of his resurrected girlfriend. I'd been so ungrateful and so _mean_ , and he didn't deserve it.

 _Maybe I should apologize._ I couldn't believe I was even considering it, but I also couldn't help feeling that it was the right thing to do. _After I finish this hunt and show them that I'm still on my A-game, I'll apologize. We'll have some big talk where I hopefully won't have a panic attack, maybe drink a few beers or something, and I'll apologize. Then maybe he'll tell me more about who I was and what I've done. I don't just wanna know the bad things—I wanna know how many people I've saved, what adventures I've had—_ A sudden thought struck me: _And, holy hell, I've got so much pop culture to catch up on. Think of all the music and movies and novels I've missed. Fuck, I don't remember seeing_ Return of the King _! I was so excited for that! Okay, yeah, as soon as this hunt is over, I'm gonna sit my ass down and have a_ Lord of the Rings _movie marathon. I wonder if_ Return _is as long as—_

My thoughts broke off as Niles sat back down in the booth and handed me a blood red drink in a fancy glass. I gave him an exasperated look. "You do realize I was the girl who nearly asked you for a bottle of straight whiskey earlier today, right?"

"Just try it," he said earnestly. "It's one of my favorites, and I think you'll like it."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Well, since you're buying…"

"I wouldn't do—" he started, wide-eyed, as I took a large gulp of the drink "—that…"

I made a face and shuddered as I sat the drink down a little harder than I'd meant to. "What the fuck was that?!" I coughed. "It's spicy as hell!"

Niles laughed. "It's called Satan's Circus. It's got Aperol in it."

"Aperol's not spicy!"

"It is if it's been infused with chile peppers for three days…"

"What?!"

"It's called Satan's Circus for a reason."

"No shit!" As my mouth cooled down and I was able to breathe again, I took another, much smaller sip of the drink. "Huh," I said, more than a little surprised. "That's actually pretty good, now that I can actually taste it. Thanks for the warning, by the way."

"How was I supposed to know you were going to knock it back like that?"

"Okay, yeah, point." I took another sip. "Like, wow. That's _really_ good."

"I'll tell Liv you said so."

"I kinda expected you to take the credit for making it."

"I kind of expected you to expect that," he countered with another laugh, and I joined in. He got serious as his laughter faded. "Have you found anything yet? About Janie?" he asked worriedly, and I was almost convinced that he actually cared.

I shook my head. "Nothing yet. I had a minor setback earlier today—some issues with the home office—and it fucked up my schedule a bit." _Thanks for that, Sammy._ "But, tomorrow, I'm going to be doing some more interrogations and investigating the crime scene. Jane's not the first murder, but I intend to make sure she's the last." I let my voice get as harsh and fierce as I felt—even if Niles, by some strange occurrence, wasn't the one killing those girls, it wouldn't hurt him to know how serious I was about stopping whoever was responsible. And, if he _was_ the monster like I thought and my words scared him a little, it would just be an added bonus.

"If there's anything I can do to help…" he trailed off, and I nodded.

"Just keep your eyes open. I know that most of the murders are happening closer to Stateburg, but it's only like forty minutes from here, and drunk college girls are too vulnerable for some psycho to pass up."

"I'll let you know if I see anything suspicious."

"I appreciate it." I gazed at him across the table, trying to find some hint that he really was what I was hunting, but he looked completely innocent. He seemed at ease in his surroundings, even after our serious talk, and he looked appropriately upset by the thought of another girl going missing. I had nothing other than the words of Kirsten Williams, who was scared and sad and alone after the death of her best friend. _Can I really just go on that?_

As I continued to ponder the possibility of Niles being the monster, my eyes fell on the strange bracelet around his wrist. I'd forgotten to ask him about it earlier because Dean had texted me, but now seemed like as good a time as any, and maybe it would give me some clues. Right as I started to ask him, however, the door to the bar opened and completely distracted me. "Ah, _fuck_ ," I said under my breath as Sam caught sight of me and walked over to the booth. Niles gave me a questioning look, and I quickly lied and said, "Niles, this is my partner, Detective Cage. Detective, this is Niles Pottinger. He's the one who found Jane McCollum's remains."

I saw confusion on Sam's face—he'd apparently expected me to be hostile—but he got over it and slid into the booth beside me. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "Car trouble. I'm guessing you've gotten what you need from him?" Sam asked as his eyes scanned the table, taking note of the drinks and finally the slight smirk on Niles's face. _Oh, God, is this gonna be a testosterone thing?_

"I have," I said a little harshly, causing Sam to look back up at me ashamedly, knowing I'd picked up on the jealousy. "Niles was nice enough to buy me a drink for my troubles—he's been very helpful. We can go over what he told me tomorrow." I stared pointedly at Sam, hoping he would go away. I knew that I should've told him earlier about my suspicions towards Niles, but the fight had happened and I'd completely forgotten. Now, I was scared that, if Sam stayed, he'd end up giving something away. I was doing so well on my own, and I wanted to continue that streak.

"Actually, I've found a few things, too, and it's kinda urgent," Sam said, shooting a glance at Niles. _Please let him actually be telling the truth instead of being possessive. I mean, I don't think Sam's a possessive kinda guy, but I dunno. I just hope he actually has something if he's trying to make me leave my prime suspect._

What could I do? I had told Niles I was still kind of on the job when I first came in, so it wasn't like I could act like I was totally off the clock. And I couldn't just tell Sam no—I was supposed to be a detective, and I had to retain a sense of professionalism. I had no other options. Suppressing a sigh, I gave Niles an apologetic smile. "Thanks for your time, Niles," I told him, "and for Satan's Circus."

Niles grinned back at me. "Anytime, Detective. Just be a little more careful with it next time."

My smile grew. "Yeah, next time, I'll be more prepared."

Sam stood up to let me out of the booth, and Niles stood, too. He was only an inch or so shorter than Sam, and, as they shook hands, I got that sense of testosterone again. "Don't leave town," Sam said sternly. "We might have more questions."

Niles raised an eyebrow and glanced at me. "Don't worry; I know the drill. Nice to meet you, Detective Cage. Have a good night."

Sam nodded, and he led the way out of Group Therapy. I managed to hold my tongue until we'd gotten back to John's Impala, and then I let loose on him. "What the fuck was _that_?!" I yelped. "Could you _be_ more obvious?! If he didn't think we were on to him before, he certainly does now!"

"I had to test him somehow, didn't I?!" Sam shot back. "If you weren't so busy _flirting_ —"

"Ohhh, no. We are _not_ doing this!" I broke in. "This is _not_ gonna be some weird jealousy thing; I swear to _God_ , Sam, if this is some weird jealousy thing—"

"It's not, okay?! I was just covering our asses and making sure you were actually doing your job!"

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?! You don't think I'm capable of doing this on my own?!"

"Show me that you _are_ , and maybe I'll change my mind!"

"What are you even _talking_ about?! I talked to the Stateburg police; I talked to Kirsten Williams; I talked to Niles, who was the last person to see Jane alive and also the person who found her—I know whoever did this is some sort of water spirit, and I know that silver bullets kill water spirits, _and_ I know that there's a ninety percent chance it's Niles! What more d'you want me to do, short of going ahead and killing him without confirmation?!"

Sam held his hand up, and I thought for a second that he was flipping me off; then I noticed that he was showing me his right ring finger, which had a silver band around it. "You could've tested him!" he said. "One handshake—that was _literally_ all it took to know that he's not our guy! If he's a water spirit, that would've burned him, and it didn't!"

My fire faded, replaced by confusion. "No, that's not…that's not right," I said slowly. "It has to be him. It all adds up. There's no one else it could be."

"Well, it's not. Silver didn't burn him, so it's not him. Silver burns every water spirit I've ever run into." I knew that what Sam was saying was true—I'd never met a water spirit immune to silver, either—but it still didn't feel right. "Was there anyone else that could've done it?" he asked, still sounding pissed. "What about her friend? Kirsten?"

"It wasn't Kirsten," I said automatically. "Kirsten has a family; she has ties to Stateburg; she's a real person. Besides, why would she take the other girls? At least she knew Jane, but she didn't know any of the others."

"Then maybe it's some random guy who just found Jane alone and took her. Maybe Jane was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe there _is_ no connection."

 _That isn't right. I know it's Niles. I_ know _it._ I stared up at Sam, willing him to listen, to believe me. "Sam, look, I know the silver didn't work, and I know he's cleared all the questions, but I _know_ it's Niles, okay? Please, just listen to me," I implored. "I can feel it in my gut. It's him. Maybe he's not a water spirit, but he's _something_ , and we've gotta stop him. Before he hurts anyone else."

Something in Sam's eyes changed: the anger faded, and something like sadness took its place. "Okay," he said quietly. "Okay, I believe you. D'you have any idea what he could be?"

I shook my head. "No, but that's why I have you, right? You're the smart brother, and I'm the smart sister." I gave him a tentative smile. "If anyone can figure this out, we can. Right?"

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he still looked mostly sad. "Right."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"What about a kappa?" Sam suggested as we flipped through the collection of books we'd both brought with us.

"Don't they usually take the form of children?" I asked.

Sam was quiet for a minute then said, "Crap, yeah, never mind. What about Adaro?"

"I feel like we'd have heard reports of fish flopping around in the intestines, don't you?"

"What?"

"They throw fish at their victims."

I glanced up to see Sam skimming the page he was on. "Oh. Right. Huh. That's weird."

"No kidding." I frowned as I flipped past undines, nix, nereids, and ahuizotl. "I'd say he's a rusalka, but they're almost always women."

"And don't they just drown their victims?" Sam asked. "They're don't usually rip them apart and eat them."

"Yep, that's rusalki for you. Ugh, we're getting nowhere, and it's starting to get light outside." Sam raised his head and followed my gaze, looking towards the window and making a face at the sunlight beginning to shine through the blinds. We'd been holed up in my hotel room all night, and all we'd found was a never-ending list of water spirits and monsters that didn't fit Niles's M.O. "Maybe we should just quit," I huffed. "Maybe you were right and it's still a kelpie or something and it's just not him."

"No, I was wrong," he argued gently. "I've learned by now to trust your instincts. You're always right, and I don't see why this time should be any different."

I bit my lip and stared back down at the book in front of me as I tried to hide my blushing face. "Is that why you got that look earlier?" I asked him. He stared at me confusedly. "The sad one, the one you told me happens when I make inside jokes."

Realization followed by embarrassment crossed his face. "Oh. Yeah. That one. Yeah, that's why."

"So what was the deal about the pillow? You still never explained that one—you said it would make me uncomfortable."

"You really wanna know?"

"Would I be asking if I didn't?"

Sam shrugged. "Probably."

"Okay, fair point. But, still. I really wanna know."

"It's just that, uh…we never had to fight over pillows." I raised my eyebrows at him, and he blushed and ducked his head. "You always just curled up half on top of me and wouldn't let me move all night," he explained. " _I_ was your pillow. When you asked, you just kinda caught me off-guard. I think it might've been the first time it actually sunk in that you didn't remember me."

By the time he was done talking, I was blushing, too. "Oh. I'm, uh…I'm sorry?" I said lamely. "For—for making you feel like that. For always making you feel like that."

"It's not your fault, Gari," he said, as always surprising me with his level of understanding. "None of it is."

"But it's also not an excuse," I said. "Just because I'm lost and confused and miserable doesn't give me the right to take it out on anyone else, especially people who just wanna help." I cast my eyes down again. "Especially you."

"You don't need to apologize to me, okay? I know you're going through a lot, and I know I'm not making it easier by worrying about you so much. I just don't know what else to do."

"I can't really help you, there. No matter what you do, it seems to set me off somehow, anyway," I said, trying to joke about it rather than show how much my ever-changing emotions bothered even me.

He frowned and repeated, "It's not your fault." Before I could say anything else on the matter, he glanced down at his book and said, "What about a tangie?"

I hadn't really wanted to change the subject, but his question threw me off. "What did you say?" I asked, already feeling dumb.

"Maybe it's a tangie. They leave behind –"

"Intestines," I interrupted, face-palming as I remembered the lore. "They leave behind intestines, prey on young women, and are immune to silver. _And_ the first stories are from Orkney, which is where Niles is from. This is it!" I exclaimed. "Ugh, I can't believe I was so _stupid_! Why didn't I catch on before?!"

"Because you were too busy flirting?" Sam teased, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'll hurt you, Winchester. Don't think I won't." He had been grinning, but, at my words, his grin became strained. "Ah, shit, I did it again, didn't I?" I said. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," he assured me again. "I just need to stop freaking out. You've still got the same sense of humor and the same way of speaking—you're bound to reuse some of your old jokes."

"Still..." I said uncomfortably. "Just know that I'm not trying to upset you, okay?"

"I know."

"Good. So refresh my memory: what kills a tangie, if not silver?"

"The lore says iron, which makes sense. Those are the two go-tos most of the time, right?"

"You don't happen to have an iron ring, do you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, sorry."

"Gah, if only I had my dagger…"

"Wait, what?" Sam said. "You don't have your dagger? You never got it back?"

I blinked at him in confusion. "Huh? I just figured you didn't wanna bury me with it and had it somewhere in the house. I meant to ask for it back, but I kept forgetting. But you're acting like you don't have it, either."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Ugh, never mind. We'll worry about that later."

"What are you talking about? Where is it?"

"You gave it to a warlock so he could enchant it to kill demons," he said quickly. "I thought Don would've given it back to you before you died, but I guess not. I'd forgotten about it until now."

"Wait, so—" I stopped myself before I could get annoyed. "Y'know, you're right. We'll worry about it later. Now we just need to find something iron to test Niles with…and something to kill him with if it's really him."

"I'm sure we've got some kind of knife in the Impala," Sam said. "Lemme check really quick, and then we can work out a game plan for testing Niles and taking him down." He started towards the door; then he turned around and said, "Are you hungry? I'm sure there's at least _one_ fast food place open for breakfast this early."

I nodded. "Food sounds good. And coffee. The strongest coffee you can find."

"I'm on it. I'll be back soon."

As Sam left the room, I continued to pore over the tangie lore, trying to find anything else that might help us. I discovered that, when they took the form of humans, they would often have weeds in their hair. Niles definitely didn't have weeds in his hair, but I knew that monsters could adapt to fit in, especially if they'd been around for a long time. Suddenly, realization hit me. "The bracelet," I said aloud. I'd assumed it was made of hemp or something like it, but now I wondered if it was really made of some sort of river weed. "It _would_ fit with a modernized version of the lore—they're still weeds, but they're in a more inconspicuous place than his hair."

Feeling satisfied, I let my thoughts drift from Niles to Sam. _Apologizing was the right thing to do,_ I thought certainly. _Things are so much easier right now than they have been since I got back, and maybe I can manage to keep it that way. I don't have to get attached to him; I just have to be nice. I can be nice, right? Especially to someone who's so nice to me? Yeah. I can do that. And, maybe when this hunt is over, he'll realize that I'm fine on my own and he'll vouch for me to Ella and Dean._

Then my thoughts went sour. _I still can't believe I'm having to prove myself to them. What Sam said earlier about me needing to show him that I could hunt on my own was bullshit—they_ know _I can hunt on my own; they_ have _to know that, right? Or else we wouldn't have hunted together for so long. I mean, I get that they're worried about me, but that's just ridiculous! Hunting is what I know; it's what I'm good at! I can still finish this hunt on my own. All I need is for Sam to come back with whatever weapon he finds, and then I can kill Niles and show them how good I am. I can show them that I don't need anyone to help me do what I do best._

With that thought in mind, I propped my head up on my hand and started reading again, pushing the thought of anything but taking down a tangie out of my mind.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I stretched out across the somewhat lumpy bed and buried my face in the pillow. I hadn't slept more than a handful of hours over the past few days, and I didn't want to wake up.

Then my eyes popped open and I sat straight up when the fact that I was in a bed finally sunk in. The last thing I remembered, I was researching tangies while waiting for Sam to come back with weapons and food. _I must have dozed off at the table. But how did I get in the bed? Did Sam move me?_ I noticed that I was just lying on top of the covers and I was still fully dressed, minus my boots. The book with the tangie lore was gone from the table, and a paper bag and a Styrofoam cup were in its place.

I got to my feet and shuffled over to the table, wondering how long the food had been there. As I reached for the bag, I noticed a note from Sam scribbled on a napkin. _Don't freak out—I just took off your shoes,_ was the first sentence, and I almost smiled. _I had to go back to Abbeville to find something iron; I should be back by the time you wake up. Don't feel bad about falling asleep—I know you could use the rest._ Please _wait for me before going after Niles. Don't be reckless. –Sam_

I took a sip of the coffee and made a face; apparently, it had been there for a while, seeing as it was ice cold. There were two biscuits in the bag, and I didn't even bother with them. Instead, I knocked back the cold coffee and tried not to shudder at the aftertaste. _If the food's that cold, he'll be back really soon. Which means I don't have much time. I've gotta find Niles before he does. I've gotta prove that I can finish this on my own. Now I've just gotta find some iron._

I had taken inventory of the weapons in Greg's Impala before leaving Abbeville and I didn't remember finding anything iron, but there was always the possibility I'd missed it because I hadn't been looking for it. I figured it couldn't hurt to take another look. After changing my clothes, tying back my hair, and pulling on my boots, I trekked out to the car and started going through the arsenal in the trunk as discreetly as possible. There were about ten different shotguns, a few knives which I knew to be pure silver, and a couple of throwing stars, among tons of other weapons, but I didn't see anything iron.

Just when I was about to call it quits, I remembered how Greg liked to hide weapons in strange places. I knew there was a pistol under each of the front seats and a knife in the glove compartment—I'd even found a flash bomb stashed in the console when I was eighteen. With that thought in mind, I started in the driver's seat and worked my way through the car. _Yep, there's the guns and the knife and the flash bomb and… When did he put a hex bag in here? Why is there some weird sigil under the mats? Did the Winchesters do this?_ I made a mental note to ask Sam about it later as I climbed into the back and felt around under the seat. _Okay, that's definitely a rifle. Is that all that's back here? C'mon, G, you gotta have_ something _!_

"A-ha!" I exclaimed as I pulled a fire poker out from under the seat. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, G! Now I can go kick this tangie's ass and make you proud!"

A small part of me wondered if I was making a mistake—although I hated to admit it, I _had_ been out of the game for a while, and the whole ordeal with the Trans and Crowley hadn't given me that much of a chance to see what I could still do, other than nearly knock myself out by exorcising a demon. I remembered the end of Sam's note— _Don't be reckless_ —and, instead of disregarding his warning, I started to consider it.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, signaling a phone call, and I put it to my ear without looking at the caller I.D. "Hello?"

"Oh, good, you're up," Sam's voice said on the other end. "How long have you been up? Was the food still warm?"

He sounded so worried that I couldn't bear to tell him the truth. "Yeah, it was fine," I lied. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said, sounding relieved. "And, uh, sorry I moved you. You were kinda in the way, and you didn't really look all that comfortable—you almost fell out of the chair twice—and I promise I didn't—"

"Sam, you're fine," I interrupted, holding back a laugh at his awkwardness. "Sorry I fell asleep."

"No, no, it's fine. We had pretty much everything we needed, anyway. I just couldn't find any iron in the Impala—Dean must've cleaned it out recently—and I knew it wouldn't take me too long to go back to Abbeville."

"Did you get a weapon, then?" I asked.

"Yeah, I got a couple of knives, and Ella gave me her fire poker."

I frowned in confusion. "She has a gas fireplace. Why does she have a poker?"

"She says it completes the image. I dunno. I just kinda nodded and went with it."

"That's the best thing to do," I laughed. "So how far out are you?"

"About half an hour. What d'you think: should we stake-out the area where he's been taking girls, or should we watch him at the bar?"

"You're too suspicious—he'd know you were onto him if you went to the bar, especially after that testosterone-fueled first encounter yesterday."

"Hey, I was playing bad cop, okay?" Sam said, sounding offended.

"Well, for one, you're a detective," I reminded him. "And, two, you play bad cop _very_ badly. You came across as more of a jealous boyfriend than anything else."

Sam was quiet for a moment; then he said, "Yeah, okay, I get where you're coming from. Sorry."

"Don't apologize; it was kinda funny once it stopped being extremely annoying."

"Oh, great, thanks," he said sarcastically.

"Anytime, sunshine," I joked back. "So, it looks like we're going for the stake-out. I was checking out the area online earlier, and it looks like there's a trail along the river that runs for a few miles. All the girls have been disappearing around there, and Jane was found next to a park bench right on the bank. That'll be our best bet."

"Got it. I'll meet you back at the hotel in about twenty minutes, and then we can go catch this guy."

"Sounds like a plan. See you soon." _Well, it looks like I'm gonna wait for Sam, after all. It's the smart thing to do, right? I'm gonna be smart instead of reckless. For once._

I hung up and slid the phone back into my pocket just in time for it to ring again. I actually checked who it was this time, but it was an unfamiliar number. Deciding I should play it safe, I answered the phone with, "This is Detective Jones. Who's calling?"

"Detective? It's Officer Williams." He sounded upset, but I didn't get a chance to ask what was wrong because he just kept talking. "Look, I know this is real unprofessional, but I think Kirsten's in trouble."

"What makes you say that?"

"I was drivin' by the house, just checkin' up on her, y'know? I been doin' it ever since Janie. And there was this guy out there; he knocked on the door and Kirsten answered and they walked off and I haven't seen 'em since."

I tried to control my panic and instead asked, "Officer, why didn't you go after them? Why are you even calling me about this? This is _your_ jurisdiction."

"I can't mess up this family anymore," he confessed quietly. "Phil and Mary already hate me, and if this is really nothin' and I'm just breakin' up Kirsten and some new boyfriend, Kirsten'll hate me, too. I just…I got a bad feelin', Detective, just not enough for me to risk losin' the only family I got left."

"I understand." And, while I _did_ understand, I couldn't help but think how selfish Officer Williams was being in putting his relationship with his family over the potential loss of one of said family members. "What did the guy look like? Did he look suspicious in any way?"

"Not really—he was tall and blond, wearin' faded jeans and a gray t-shirt. I wouldn'ta been suspicious if he hadn't pretty much fit the description Kirsten gave me of Janie's last boyfriend—I know he was the guy that found her, and it just don't seem right to me."

 _That's definitely Niles, then. He's going after Kirsten now. Oh, fuck. I've gotta get to her. I've gotta save her._ "Officer Williams, listen to me: get in your car and drive to the park just off the Wateree River, the one with the gravel parking lot near where Jane was found," I ordered.

"How d'ya know that's where—"

"D'you want me to help your cousin or not?!" I interrupted harshly. "Go _now_!" I didn't give the officer another chance to speak before hanging up the phone and jumping into the driver's seat of Greg's Impala. I slammed my foot down on the gas and tore out of the parking lot, heading toward the park I'd told Officer Williams about.

 _No one else is gonna get hurt because of me. I'm gonna save her. I'm not gonna let Kirsten get hurt. I don't care what it takes—she's gonna survive tonight, and I'm gonna make sure Niles never hurts anyone again._ As I drove, I briefly considered calling Sam and updating him on the change of plans, but some selfish part of me—the part I'd been warring with since I got back, the part that needed to prove itself—stopped me from doing so. _I can do this alone,_ I thought for the hundredth time. _I can show him that I'm capable. I can show him that I'm still a hunter. I can show all of them that I can still get the job done. All it takes is one job, and they'll be off my back. They'll see how wrong they were to worry about me, and they won't be so paranoid all the time. It's a win-win for everyone._ And I mostly convinced myself that it was true.


	9. Getting Good at Starting Over

I pulled up into the gravel lot and threw the car into park, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition. I grabbed the fire poker in my left hand and pulled Sam's gun out of my waistband. I knew that silver bullets wouldn't kill a tangie, but they'd sure as hell slow it down. I took off running down the path, keeping my eyes out for any sign of Kirsten and Niles and silently thanking whoever had designed the trail for putting a lamppost every hundred feet or so.

Finally, after what felt like ages, I saw a small figure sitting on a bench under one of the lamps. As I got closer, I saw the yellow tape and the bloodstains in the grass, and I realized that this was Jane's crime scene. Kirsten looked up as I came closer, her eyes wide and red from crying, and a bewildered look crossed her face. "D-Detective Jones?" she said shakily. "W-what're _you_ doin' here?"

"Where is he?" I asked, ignoring her question. "Where's Niles?"

"He…he left me," she sniffled. "He brought me out here 'cause he said he wanted to talk about Janie, and then I started cryin', and he got real weird and started gettin' all touchy and I told him to back off 'cause what kinda person goes after her dead best friend's boyfriend and then he got mad and I ran away from him and got here and couldn't run anymore 'cause I saw all the blood and—"

"Kirsten, hey, it's okay," I broke in gently, and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. "Did he hurt you? Did Niles hurt you in any way?"

She shook her head. "N-no, but I think he was followin' me. He kept callin' my name and tryin' to get me to come back. He looked funny. His face…it wasn't right." She looked up at me then, and there was fear in her eyes. "When I was runnin', I kept hearin' somethin' in the water beside me. I don't hear it anymore. Was I imaginin' it?"

"No, Kirsten," I assured her. "You weren't imagining it. It's Niles."

" _What_?"

"I need you to listen to me, okay? Niles is…" _Ah, shit, am I really gonna tell her the truth? I can't do that to her—I_ won't _; not if I can help it._ "Niles is the one who killed Jane," I said finally, getting as close to the truth as I could. "And all the other girls who've gone missing. I know you don't wanna believe it, but—"

I broke off as Kirsten froze beneath my hands and terror etched itself across her face. I glanced over my shoulder to see Niles stepping out of the shadows—Kirsten was right; something was off about his face. It was a slight greenish-brown color, and his features kept changing; they were fluid, like water: one moment, he looked like Niles, and the next, his teeth were long and sharp and his eyes were glassy and white. His bracelet was gone now, and there were weeds in place of his sandy blond hair. "Detective Jones," he said pleasantly, but his words slurred, running together like the river. "What a nice surprise."

I turned back to Kirsten and spoke quickly. "Pay attention, Kirsten!" The girl's horrified eyes snapped back to mine. "I need you to run, okay? Run all the way back to the gravel lot at the edge of the park. Your cousin is gonna be there, and he's gonna get you home." I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. "If he's not, go through my contacts, find the name 'Sam Winchester,' and tell him what's going on. He'll keep you safe. Nod if you understand me." She nodded slowly, and I smiled at her. "Good. Now _go_!" I gave her a small shove, and she spun and sprinted back up the path. I turned back to Niles, and I wasn't afraid. Kirsten was safe, and this was going to end tonight, one way or the other.

"So you're a hunter, huh?" Niles asked me, and I noticed that he wasn't moving closer. Was he not going to come after me, even though I'd just cost him his prey? "I should've known."

"The fact that you didn't means I'm doing my job right," I replied with a smirk.

His eyes drifted down to the gun in my hand. "You know those won't kill me."

"I know." I aimed a shot at his leg and grinned as he cried out in pain and dropped to one knee. "But getting shot is _never_ fun."

"Where's your partner?" he hissed through clenched teeth as he forced himself back to his feet. "Car trouble again?"

"He's just back-up," I bluffed. "He hangs back and lets me do the dirty work—I'm better at killing. He's waiting a few yards back right now, making sure you don't try to run. He doesn't always have the most faith in me." _Okay, a little too truthful there. Don't get all personal._

"Huh. I think he's onto something, sweetheart, because you're about to lose me." I barely had time to process the words before Niles turned and ran. I was impressed by his speed—the gunshot wound didn't seem to slow him down at all, and I was falling behind. I realized then that I wasn't going to reach him in time. He was almost to the river's edge and I was still too far away. He threw a charming, mischievous grin over his shoulder at me before he jumped into the water.

I had no choice—now that he knew that I was onto him, he wouldn't show up in the area again—I had to kill him _now_ , no matter what. So I did one of the dumbest things I could remember doing: I dropped the pistol, gripped the fire poker tighter in my hand, and dove in after him.

Niles grabbed me as soon as I hit the water. His hands were squeezing my neck, causing me to take in big gulps of water and almost lose my hold on my weapon. As his teeth elongated again and his mouth opened abnormally wide, I knew that this was it—my final hunt, and I was going to be taken down by Nessie's distant cousin. _But I'll be damned if I don't take him out with me_ , I thought stubbornly, and, with the last dredges of my strength, fighting against the current and the spots appearing in my eyes, I moved the poker through the water and shoved it through Niles's heart.

A look of utter shock crossed his face as he fell apart in front of my failing vision, becoming weeds that still clung to me in an attempt to finish killing me. I released the poker and scrabbled at the weeds around my neck, but they were wound too tightly and I had no air left. I couldn't fight against the current anymore, and I had no choice but to let myself drift down the river as unconsciousness started to claim me. Panic had made me completely immobile, and, while I may not have seen my miserable life flash before my eyes like the rumors said, all of my fears and regrets hit me at once, and I found myself thinking of the Winchesters and Ella, the little family that I couldn't remember and had pushed away from the moment I'd gotten back.

 _I'd do it differently,_ I thought hazily. _I'd try to change. It wasn't Ella's fault—it was mine for freaking out. Dean has done absolutely nothing to me—he doesn't deserve my distrust. And Sam… We've made so much progress in just one day. I really, truly like him, and there's no reason for me to be afraid of that. Maybe being attached to someone else wouldn't be too bad. Maybe I could let someone care about me for once. Maybe I could get used to it. I think I'd like to try._ But those thoughts were too little, too late. I was going to die—apparently for the second time in my life—and there was nothing I could do about it.

Suddenly, I felt something wrap under my arms and pull me against the current, and I didn't have time to wonder what it could be before I blacked out.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"Gari? Gari, c'mon, baby, wake up!" The voice was frantic, and it was suddenly accompanied by a heavy weight on my chest that pressed down in short intervals. I wanted to bat whatever it was away, but I couldn't move my arms. It was uncomfortable, painful even, and it wouldn't stop. "Gari, c'mon, you can't do this to me! Not again!" the voice cried. " _Garideth, you can't leave me again!"_ The pressure was becoming unbearable and then, finally, water forced its way out of my lungs and up my windpipe, and I coughed once before rolling over and vomiting onto the riverbank. "Oh, thank _God_ ," came the worried voice from behind me, and I finally realized that it was Sam. I was sure he thought I had been too out of it to hear him freaking out, but I _did_ hear him, and the absolute terror in his voice had scared me, too. _I think sometimes I forget how close we were before. It's kinda scary to think about. And did he just call me "baby?" "Babe," I can deal with. But "_ baby _?"_ Really _?_ One of Sam's hands pulled my hair away from my face as I continued to puke up a whole river while the other hand rested on my back, just like his brother had done for me only a few days before. And, like before, I appreciated the action but was a little freaked out at how normal this seemed for him. When he started rubbing his hand in small circles, however, I jerked away from him and curled in on myself as I continued to cough.

"Gari?" he asked hesitantly.

"G-Greg used to do that," I rasped.

"What?"

"The circles—Greg used to do that."

"Oh…shit." I could hear the sympathy in his voice, but I ignored it as I massaged my throat where Niles had tried to strangle me. "It's always worked—you never told me—I'm so sorry." I expected him to stop there; I figured he'd be staring down at his hands with his hair hiding his face as he kicked himself for upsetting me again. I looked up at him, about to try to reassure him, and I found that, instead, his jaw was set and his eyes glinted angrily in the moonlight. "No, y'know what?" he said heatedly. "I don't think I _am_ sorry." I blinked in surprise at his reaction. "I mean, maybe I _would_ be if you hadn't just done the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do— _including_ drinking demon blood! What are you now, _suicidal_?! Seriously, all you had to do was wait twenty minutes for me to meet you at the hotel and we could've gone after him _together_!"

Then my shock wore off enough for me to fight back. "What if he'd killed Kirsten, huh? Because _that's_ who he was going after! He killed Jane, and he was gonna kill Kirsten, too! I found the two of them at that park bench back there and chased him off! If I hadn't been there, it would've been _her_ who died! I couldn't let that happen! I couldn't let anyone else get hurt because of me!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I stared at Sam with wide, scared eyes. He looked just as stunned as I was, and I took that opportunity to change the subject. "Look, it's done. Let's just go, okay? I'll meet you back at the hotel." I got to my feet a little shakily and started back up the path, not waiting for him to follow.

He caught up to me quickly, and I noticed him tucking his gun into his waistband as he slowed his pace. _He must have picked it up before following me. And yet he_ still _managed to catch up with me? Damn those long legs of his._ "No _way_ you're driving after that," he said, and I rolled my eyes and groaned. Before I could speak, however, he said, "Look, we'll talk about all of… _this_ —" he gestured wildly "—later; just let me drive you back to the hotel and get you outta those clothes." I raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for him to realize what he'd said, and I wasn't disappointed by the blush that sprang to his cheeks. "Shit, sorry, not like—well, uh—y'know what I mean. So you don't get sick. Not for…for anything else."

I fought back a grin, deciding to stick with my lingering anger and despair and to ignore the revelation I'd had when I'd almost drowned. "You're not driving Greg's car."

"Okay, we'll take the Impala and come back for Greg's tomorrow."

"Well, you're not leaving it here! This is a really shitty part of town!"

"Will you make up your mind?!" Sam said exasperatedly. "D'you wanna leave it here or let me drive it?!"

"Here's a solution: _I_ drive Greg's car and _you_ drive John's! Everyone's happy!"

"Gari, you're _not_ driving. You almost drowned ten minutes ago, and you've still got weeds wrapped around your neck."

" _Ugh_ , you're so fucking _annoying_!" I whined as I pulled the weeds away from me and threw them on the ground. "Stop trying to take care of me! I'm—I'm twenty- _something_ years old! I can take care of myself!"

"Then _prove it_ and don't jump into the water after a fucking _tangie_!"

"I'm not having this conversation right now; I'm not. I am _too_ tired to fight with you about this."

"But not about cars, huh?"

"Never about cars."

He almost grinned, but that faded as we entered the gravel lot where our Impalas were parked. "I'm driving you back to the hotel," he said stubbornly.

"You're really not."

"Gari—"

"Okay, look, how about we compromise?" I suggested reluctantly.

"I'm listening."

"How about you drive John's Impala and I drive Greg's and you follow me back to the hotel? That way, I don't have to let you touch my dad's car and you can keep an annoyingly close eye on me. Sound like a plan?"

Sam huffed, and I knew that it was a sign of defeat. "Yeah, okay, but only if you _promise_ you're gonna crank up the heat the whole way back and take a really hot shower as soon as you get there."

"I'm not even cold," I protested, and it was true—I was just sort of numb all over.

"And _that's_ what I was afraid of," he muttered.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, _fine_. It's a deal. I'll make sure to drive like a grandma so you can keep up."

"Just get in the car."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So did you not bother to get a hotel room or d'you just like hanging around in mine?" I asked Sam as I came out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the edge of the bed. He had been right: the shower had helped me warm up considerably, and, after sitting under the stream for about ten minutes, I had regained the feeling in my body. The only negative side of that was the fact that now my neck hurt like a bitch and I was sore all over from being buffeted by the river.

"I was gonna get one last night, but we ended up researching instead of sleeping, so…" He glanced at me then and quickly looked away as he saw that I was only in a towel, and it took all of my strength not to roll my eyes at him. _He's just being respectful, okay? Yeah, he's used to seeing me in little to no clothes, but he knows that_ I'm _not used to him seeing me that way. He's trying to respect me, and that's super sweet and just a little adorable._

"So, what, you were just thinking we wouldn't be sleeping tonight, either?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him. "Did you have something else in mind?"

He blushed and managed not to stutter as he said, "No, I just got back too late to get a room. I was gonna ask if I could take the floor. If that's not okay, I can just sleep in the Impala."

"Can you actually _fit_ in John's Impala?"

"Eh, good enough," he shrugged. "You'd be surprised at how roomy it is."

"Was that supposed to sound a little dirty?" I teased. "Because it kinda did. A little bit of an innuendo, y'know?"

"Yeah, okay, I know. Shut up. I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

"Hey, man, I dunno what you get up to in that car. I know what _I_ got up to in _Greg's_ car, so I have a few ideas, but I've got no specifics."

"Can we change the subject, please?"

I laughed. "You're so easy to mess with. Now, look away," I said as I leaned over my duffle bag and grabbed a tank top. "I'm changing clothes, and I wouldn't wanna scar your poor, innocent eyes."

"Oh, ha, ha. Very funny," Sam scoffed, but he still averted his gaze and stared at the wall.

"Hey, you're the one who freaked when I wasn't wearing a bra."

"I was just caught off-guard, okay? I didn't expect you to start taking all your clothes off right in front of me!"

"I'm sorry I offended your gentlemanly values."

"You're hilarious."

"It's a natural talent." I finally found the old plaid pajama pants I was looking for and pulled them on. "Okay, it's safe now. Nothing unseemly here—unless my shoulders are too distracting for you."

"No, I graduated high school. Shoulders don't really do it for me anymore," Sam chuckled, looking proud of his joke, and I couldn't help but to laugh with him.

"See, you've got me beat: I never graduated high school. Ella finally got her GED, but I just didn't care."

He frowned. "You never told me that."

"I was probably scared you'd disapprove; y'know, since you're such a fucking nerd and all."

"Well, I _am_ the smart brother."

"Yeah, I'd say so, Mr. Pre-Law."

Sam blushed. "How did you—oh. The books. I forgot about those. How far are you?"

"Just finished _In My Time of Dying_." I was worried that I'd have to fake some sorrow over reading about John Winchester's death, but I found that I really did feel bad for him. In the end, he cared about his boys, and he put Dean before the cause. And I didn't have to pretend to feel sorry for Sam and Dean. The death of a father was something I could sympathize with far too well. "I'm sorry about your dad," I said quietly, not meeting Sam's eye.

Our comfortable, joking atmosphere was gone as soon as I uttered the words, and Sam managed an awkward, "Thanks."

Instead of changing the subject, I decided to keep going. _Apparently, I'm just a glutton for awkwardness._ "And, uh, I'm sorry for how I treated you and Dean when I first got back. I mean, I'm sorry for the first time, too, but I'm guessing I already apologized for that." Sam almost smiled, and I continued. "You're not your father—neither of you are—and I'm kinda starting to realize that being like him wouldn't have been the worst thing you could be, anyway. Close, but not quite." I attempted to joke about it, and Sam's growing smile made me feel better. "And I just want you to know that I knew you and your brother were different a long time ago—everything between us lately hasn't been because of John; it's been because of me. I'm the one who's fucked up—I'm the one who's made this so much harder than it needed to be."

"Gari, when I told you earlier that you didn't need to apologize," Sam started, looking so sincere that it made me feel even worse for treating him badly, "I meant it. You've been dealing with so much; I can't even begin to understand what you're going through—coming back from the dead, losing your memories, getting stuck with me and Dean—it would be hard on everyone. I'm just happy you're still hanging around."

"Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go." The hurt that flashed across his face had me reconsidering my words. "Shit, Sam, not like that," I said hurriedly. "I didn't mean it like that. Really. I just kinda always say the wrong thing in serious situations. I'm always—"

"—putting your foot in your mouth," he finished, looking marginally happier. "Yeah, I know."

"But, seriously, I'm glad I ended up with the two of you. At least you have some clue of what's going on. If Ella had been with some normal guy, we'd have had _way_ too much explaining to do."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, well, coming back from the dead is something we Winchesters are pretty used to."

"That sentence should not be as comforting to me as it is."

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Sam said, and I was a little unnerved at how serious he became.

"Is it gonna start a fight?" I asked warily.

"Maybe."

I sighed. "If you really wanna risk it."

Apparently, he did. "What was that about not letting anyone else get hurt because of you?"

 _Looks like I was right to be nervous. Am I really gonna answer this? I mean, it's not like I can lie. And if I say that I don't feel comfortable answering the question, he'll probably back off and never bring it up again, but I owe him some sort of explanation, especially since I just almost caused my second death in a year. Ugh. Looks like it's time to bare my soul._

"After what happened with the Trans…" I started slowly, "…I just kinda felt like a failure."

"I'm with you there," he agreed sullenly.

"I mean, after I came back, I had just wanted one thing to feel normal, and I'd hoped that hunting, even if it was with two near-strangers, would do the trick." The words spilled out of me fast and frantic, and, for once, I didn't try to calm myself down. "And then it got so complicated, and then Kevin almost got sold and Mrs. Tran got possessed and went all lobotomized and they ran and I just felt so _useless._ I mean, I literally only killed one demon from the moment we started the hunt. _And_ I managed to get shot. What good did I do?" I didn't want an answer, and Sam seemed to realize that, for he just stayed silent and let me continue. "And then Ella made it worse when she told me what I'd done—how I'd killed people, killed a frigging _kid_ —and I just couldn't take it anymore. I needed to be able to prove to the three of you and to myself that I was still good for something, that I could still save people. I thought that, if I killed what was supposed to be a simple kelpie on my own, you guys would see that I was still just as capable as I was before I died, and I would see that I could still keep people safe, even if I couldn't do that for the Trans. But, well, you saw how _that_ went." I shrugged and stared down at my hands. "I just wanted to feel like _me_ again, and I fucked it up."

Sam was quiet for a minute, apparently considering how best to reply. Finally, he said, "You never had to prove yourself to me. I shouldn't have called you incapable yesterday because it was a lie; I was just pissed off. I know how great of a hunter you are, and I've heard plenty of stories about how great you were before I met you, too. Hell, you told the wendigo story about twenty thousand times, especially when you were drunk." He chuckled then, and seeing him even slightly happy was making me feel more relaxed. "And you can't keep beating yourself up about things you don't even remember doing—believe me, I've been there, and it's pointless. That guilt is gonna tear you apart if you let it, and you _can't_ let it. You just have to promise yourself to do better, but you have to know you can't save everyone. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try or that you shouldn't be upset when you fail—it just means you have to accept that it's part of the job and move on."

"But how do I even _begin_ to do that?" I asked him. "Even before, I always felt so much guilt for letting people die. Moving on's just not in my nature—I hold grudges like nobody's business, especially against myself."

Sam looked like he was about to agree; then he seemed to think better of it and said, "Honestly, it takes years of practice. I can't tell you the amount of times I almost let the guilt crush me when I was younger, and especially after getting my soul back and finding out everything I'd done. But it gets better. It gets manageable." Something in his voice sounded strained, and I saw in his deep hazel eyes that he didn't fully believe what he was saying. I decided not to confront him about it because I realized that he needed this conversation almost as much as I did.

"And the Trans?" I pressed.

"That's not on you," he said quietly, and it was his turn to look away. "If it's on anyone, it's on me. I should've tried to find Kevin; I should've kept him safe, and none of this would've happened." _Yeah, okay, he was definitely lying to me._

"It's not all on you," I assured him, and I hesitantly placed my hand on top of his. In a seemingly subconscious move, he turned his hand to where his palm was pressed against mine, and he twined our fingers together and squeezed once. I had thought I would've wanted to pull away, but the contact actually felt nice, and I squeezed his hand back. I considered bringing up his near-panic attack he had while giving me CPR, but I didn't want to ruin the moment, and I knew that even joking about him calling me "baby" would embarrass him and make him feel uncomfortable. Since that wasn't something I wanted to do, I just glanced at the TV that was outdated even by my standards and said, "You wanna find some cheesy movie and order Chinese food?"

He gave a somewhat forced laugh and said, "Sounds like a plan."

Twenty minutes later, we were eating lo mein and watching _Dirty Dancing_ while I braided my hair in between bites and tried not to react to the not-so-discreet glances Sam kept giving me. Finally, on a commercial break, I couldn't take it anymore. I threw my finished braid over my shoulder and raised my eyebrows at him. "Got something to say, Winchester?" I prompted.

He blushed at being caught and stuttered out, "N-no, nothing, I-I just—"

"You just _what_?"

"I just…didn't expect this to feel so normal, is all. I didn't expect you to be so…relaxed."

"And why wouldn't I be? It's not like I nearly drowned and then spilled my emotional guts to you earlier."

"Gari, c'mon."

I started to feel insecure. _Am I not supposed to act this way? Is he not cool with me being so close to him right now?_ "Is relaxed a bad thing?" I asked jokingly, only getting out part of my worried thoughts. "'Cause I can freak out again and kick you outta my hotel room if you want."

"No, no!" he said quickly. "Relaxed is good. I like relaxed."

"Alrighty, then." We went back to watching the movie in silence for a few minutes until it was my turn to speak. "Okay, so, since you got to ask _me_ a personal question earlier, do I get to ask _you_ one now?"

Sam stared at me warily. "What d'you wanna know?"

 _I wanna know why you came after me. I wanna know where you've been the past week or so. I wanna know why Dean isn't with you and why you've barely mentioned him the entire time since you got here when the two of you are practically joined at the hip._ Instead, I settled for a simple, "Where's Dean?"

Apparently, Sam realized how loaded that question was, for he hesitated for a long time before answering. "We're…kinda not talking right now."

" _What_?" I pretended to gasp. "Don't tell me Sonny and Cher broke up!"

I had yet to be on the receiving end of what Ella called Sam's "bitch-face," but that changed in one instant. "Cute," he said sardonically.

I stifled a laugh at his expression once I realized how upset he was. "Okay, no, seriously. I'm sorry. What's going on?"

"Long story short: he made a friend in Purgatory who's a vampire, and I'm just now hearing about it."

"Why does it matter if the vamp's in Purgatory?"

"He's not. Dean let him hitch a ride back here."

"You can do that?!"

"Apparently so."

"So what's the big deal, other than him not telling you?" I asked. "I mean, you're cool with me, so you can't have that stupid 'all monsters are evil' ideal going on, can you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it's not that; it's just…" He sighed. "Dean's just a very hypocritical person."

"Wanna explain a little better, there, Sammy?"

"Dean was always the type that you're talking about, the 'only black and white' kinda guy," he said. "I thought he'd get over it, especially once we met you, but then I realized that you're just the exception to the rule for him, and mostly every other monster is still just a monster. He's killed people—good people—just because of something they couldn't control. He's gone behind my back to finish jobs that didn't need to be finished and shown so much prejudice to anything even slightly monster-like, and now he shacks up with a vampire he met killing monsters in _Purgatory_?!" Sam frowned. "It just pisses me off, and I know it shouldn't, but it really does."

"No, Sam, you've got every right to be pissed," I said. "Dean keeping a secret like that wasn't cool, especially if he's done what you said he's done to other monsters in the past. But maybe he kept it a secret because he _knew_ it was hypocritical of him to suddenly be okay with monsters. Maybe he was scared of how you'd react."

"Honestly, yeah, I get that. But the fact that he didn't tell me anything about Benny and then disappeared on a hunt with him and almost got himself killed by a bunch of—of _vampirates_ is what makes it so infuriating. If he'd told me from the get-go, I would've been fine. But he's a Winchester, and we Winchesters have just _gotta_ keep our secrets."

"I'm sensing a little bitterness there, Sammy boy," I joked.

"Maybe just a little."

"Well, I know I'm not the kinda person you'd expect this from, but have you tried talking to him about it?"

"That's…not really our style," Sam said lamely. "We kinda just avoid the problem until it goes away or explodes…"

"I feel that. But maybe you _could_ try? Isn't it at least worth a shot?"

"Fine," Sam nodded. "But only if you talk to Ella."

I shifted uncomfortably and resituated myself against the headboard to buy some time. "Okay," I said finally. "It's a deal. We'll talk to our respective siblings and try to smooth out our issues."

"Yep. It's a deal."

"Well, now that all that's outta the way, let's get back to watching one of the greatest movies of all time."

"Look, I know you love _Dirty Dancing_ —"

"Everyone does."

"—and, yeah, it's a great movie—"

"The best."

"—but I dunno if it deserves _that_ title."

I let out a squeak of indignation and slapped his arm. "You take that back right now, Sam Winchester!"

"Or what?" he teased.

"Or I'll kick your ass six ways to Sunday, that's what!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Is that a challenge?!"

"Only if you're not too scared!"

" _Scared_?! Of a _moose_?! Ha! Don't make me laugh!"

"Aw, c'mon, that was _too_ far!" he whined, his puppy eyes coming out in full force. "We were having a good time and then you just _had_ to call me that!"

"Hey, you insulted _Dirty Dancing_ ," I said with a shake of my head. "You brought that on yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, you made your point. Don't insult _Dirty Dancing._ I gotcha."

"Damn straight."

We fell back into a comfortable silence again, and I could feel myself drifting off. _Hey, I had a long day. I've barely slept the past week and almost drowned today; I deserve to sleep without having to defend myself. I wonder if it's gonna make Sam feel awkward if I pass out again. Why does he always find me unconscious lately? And am I really gonna make him sleep on the floor? It wouldn't hurt to let him share the bed—it's a decent-sized bed, and I'm too tired to worry about any weirdness, anyway._

"Hey, Sam?" I said through a yawn as my head rested against the headboard and my eyes fluttered closed.

"Yeah, Gari?"

"What you said earlier…'bout managing your guilt… That was bullshit, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," he admitted.

"Okay. Just checking. And, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't hafta sleep on the floor…" I yawned again "…if you don't wanna. 'S a big bed and I don't mind sharing." My head drooped onto his shoulder, and I was too tired to care. "Plus," I mumbled, "I think you'd make a comfy pillow."

He didn't reply for the longest time. I was almost completely asleep when I felt his head lean against mine and heard him say a quiet, "Thank you."


End file.
